Attend the Tale of Arthur Pendragon
by Lolapola
Summary: Arthur arrives in Camelot 20 years after he was exiled, and discovers that his friends and family have been all but destroyed in his absence. Wrought with grief and anger, he sets out to have his vengeance. But at what cost? Rated T for violence, unwilling cannibalism, and swearing. More info inside.
1. Chapter 1

A/N Okay, so this is an AU Merlin story based very closely on the musical Sweeney Todd. I haven't classed it as a crossover because I'm pretty sure crossovers are the characters from two fandoms meeting, and in this they are each other, if that makes sense….anyway, if I'm wrong about that, please let me know in a review and I will re-classify it You definitely don't have to have seen or know anything about Sweeney Todd to read this, because it is mostly Merlin – in fact it's probably better if you haven't! But if you have then you'll like it too hopefully This is AU because it ends differently from how Merlin actually ended (I still can't talk about the last episode. Heartbreaking), but apart from that most things are the same. But enough waffling from me!

This is set about 30 years after the end of series 4, the flashback scenes 10 years, so if anyone seems OOC it's because they're older, and generally changed. Italics are people's thoughts or flashback scenes, hopefully it will be clear which is which And when people refer to Mr. Todd, they are talking to Arthur – he has changed his name here for reasons explained in the story. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy it!

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to either BBC or Stephen Sondheim.

Attend the Tale of Arthur Pendragon

Anthony Hope stood just inside the gates of Camelot, and gazed around the city in happiness. Anthony was a sailor, just arriving from the town where his ship had docked, Camulodunum. He was due to stay in Camelot for two months, and he had missed this town more than he thought possible.

_I've sailed the world and seen many wonderful things, _thought Anthony, _but there's no place like Camelot_.

Anthony stood there for a moment, remembering how the last time he'd visited Camelot he had loved how he could hear the city bells ring whatever he was doing and wherever he was, and a huge smile spread across his face at the thought of staying here for a month.

"There is no place like Camelot!" he said aloud happily.

A mirthless laugh came from behind him, and a grim voice spoke from the shadows next to the city walls.

"There is indeed no place like Camelot." But the owner of the voice clearly didn't mean it in the way the young sailor did.

"Mr. Todd!" exclaimed Anthony. "I didn't see you there!"

Arthur Pendragon stepped out of the shadows and looked at the city he used to call home, the city he now despised with all his heart. Then he looked at Anthony, so young and happy and…naive. He reminded Arthur of someone. Someone who it was too painful to think about.

"You are young," he said to Anthony eventually, "Life has been kind to you. You will learn." At this, Anthony looked confused.

"Mr. Todd?" he said uncertainly.

"It is here we must go our separate ways, Anthony," Arthur said firmly. He hadn't meant to scare the boy, but he needed to be alone now. He clapped Anthony on the shoulder. "I will not forget the good ship Bountiful, nor the young man who saved my life."

He looked the boy in the eye, trying to convey his gratitude. It was the only positive emotion he had had in a long while.

Anthony beamed, glad that the older man appeared to have snapped out of his strange mood. "There's no cause to thank me for that, sir," he laughed, "It would have been an immoral man indeed that spotted you pitching and tossing on that raft and not given the alarm."

Arthur scowled angrily. "There's many a man who would've done just that, and not lost a wink of sleep for it either," he spat.

Anthony drew back in alarm, and opened his mouth for a question, when he was interrupted by an old beggar man who had appeared by his side out of nowhere.

"Alms, alms," he croaked in a low voice that made Anthony shiver, "for a miserable old man on such a miserable, chilly morning?" He stared at the sailor balefully with watery blue eyes. His skin was covered with sores and dirt, and his hair was stringy and greasy.

Anthony pressed a few gold coins into the beggar man's hand, and then bid a hasty retreat. Lord knew what diseases the beggar was carrying.

"Thank you sir, thank you!" gasped the man, pawing at the coins in his hand. He appeared to turn away to leave, and then swung back round so fast that it made Anthony wonder if the man was really old as he appeared to be.

Then he had little time to wonder, because the beggar was right in his face, sneering and cackling, his filthy hand around Anthony's neck. "Come on sir, come on, is that it?" the beggar screeched, "Gimme some more! Gimme your clothes! Gimme your food! Come sir, come -" Anthony shoved the beggar man away, revolted but not afraid. He was younger and far stronger him, and there were many beggars who had lost their minds. They were rarely any real threat.

Almost as soon as Anthony had shoved the beggar away he was hunched over again, limping away and calling in his whiny beggar voice. He was clearly insane, and Anthony felt a jolt of pity for him.

He looked across at Arthur, who was glaring at the beggar man with barely disguised disgust in his eyes. The beggar man was clearly not put off by this.

"Alms, alms," he was calling again, "for a pitiful old man, who's got wandering wit and –" He broke off suddenly, peering up at Arthur. "Hey, don't I know you mister?" He whispered hesitantly.

A bolt of alarm shot through Arthur. This man was old enough; he could've been there before… No one could recognise him. No one. Not even an insane beggar man.

"Off with you!" cried Arthur, "Off I say!" The beggar man straightened up again, like he'd done with Anthony. "Come on sir, come on! Gimme your money –"

Arthur cut the old man's rant short. "Off I said! To the devil with you!" he roared, throwing the man away from him.

The beggar fell with a cry, lay frozen where he'd landed for a second, and then was back up on his feet and shuffling away from them as if nothing had happened.

"Alms, alms, for a pitiful old man…" His wailing died out as he got further away. Arthur tore his gaze away from the man's retreating back and looked back to Anthony, who was staring at him warily.

"Pardon me sir," Anthony said carefully, "but there's no need to fear the likes of him. He's only a half-crazed beggar man, Camelot's full of them."

Arthur sighed heavily. He had overreacted a bit. "I beg your indulgence, Anthony. My mind is far from easy." He looked around at the bleak town, and then at his young friend. "For in these once familiar streets, I feel the chill of ghostly shadows. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive." Anthony replied easily. Arthur smiled slightly.

"Farewell then, Anthony." He turned to go.

"Mr. Todd, before we part…"

"What is it?"

Anthony appeared to hesitate a moment. There was something, it seemed, that he wanted to say, but was not quite sure how to say it.

"Mr Todd," he began again, "I have honoured my promise never to question you. Whatever brought you to that sorry shipwreck is your affair and yet, over the many weeks of our voyage home, I've come to think of you as a friend.  
And if trouble lies ahead for you in London, if you need any help…" he hesitated again, "…or money…"

"No!" Arthur looked away. He did not have much left, he knew, but he still had his pride. _Agravaine and Morgana may have stolen my life from me, but they will not take that, _he thought. Agravaine and Morgana. Even the thought of their names made him snarl in anger.

Anthony was staring at him now, and suddenly Arthur wanted to yell it all out, scream his injustices to the world.

"There's a whole in the world like a great black pit," he snarled, thinking of the citizens around him whom he hated, "and the vermin of the world inhabit it, and their morals aren't worth what a pig could spit, and it goes by the name of Camelot. At the top of the hole sit the traitors and liars and scumbags, making a mockery of anything or anyone good. They turn beauty into filth and greed,"

He took a step closer to Anthony, who looked afraid but Arthur was too caught up in his rant to notice. "I, too, have sailed the world and seen its wonders," he sneered, "for the cruelty of men is as wondrous as the Far East, but there is no place like Camelot!" He spat the words out furiously, and then came to his senses as quickly as he lost them.

Arthur looked at Anthony's alarmed face and sighed heavily. He really owed the boy some answers now. "Long ago, there was…. There was a king. A foolish king and his queen. And she was beautiful. She was his reason and his life, and she was…beautiful."

A bolt of pain shot through Arthur as he thought of her. Gwen. Beautiful, incredible Gwen. He hadn't seen her in so long. "And she was virtuous," he continued, "And the king, he was…" He searched for the right word. "…naïve." Yes. That was what he had been. Naïve to have trusted Agravaine, foolish to think that he could ever win against him and Morgana.

"The king and the queen lived in the castle with -," His voice cracked and he stopped, composed himself, "with the Court Sorcerer. The queen and the Court Sorcerer were best friends, indeed, but he and the king….They were brothers. They loved each other like brothers, and would readily die for one another." Arthur closed his eyes briefly.

This was worse, in a way, than the pain of missing Gwen. He had longed to see his best friend for twenty years, to hear a joke, or a reassuring word of kindness. Something to pass away the days of fear and pain. But he still continued with the story. "The Court Sorcerer protected the king and queen, and Camelot, from all kinds of evil for many years.

"Together they ruled over Camelot peacefully and wisely and lived in harmony with the other kingdoms and with magic. But then…there was another man. A vicious vulture of a man – the king's uncle. And with a gesture of his claw, he removed the king from his rightful place. He was in league with an evil witch, and worked his way into the king's trust."

After that, the traitor didn't even have to try. There was nothing for him to do but wait. And the Queen, she would fall - so soft, so young, so lost and so beautiful…"

He cut himself off, not wanting to give away too much.

Arthur couldn't even begin to tell the young man before him that the evil witch was his sister, whom he had loved with all his heart. Had. He remembered that night, that awful night, in perfect clarity.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N The next few chapters are going to be quite short, purely for cliffhanger reasons *evil smile* but they should get longer as the story goes on! Forgot to say before, I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are mine, but I'm usually quite good at editing so there shouldn't be too many.

Also, as a side note, in this story, Merlin doesn't know Agravaine is in league with Morgana.

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Don't own

Chapter 2

*_Flashback to 20 years ago*_

"_Sire!" Sir Leon burst into the throne room, and Arthur and Merlin looked up from their maps with alarm. _

"_What is it, Leon?"_

"_It's…" Leon looked like he was about to be sick and Arthur felt a feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. "It's…its Gwen, sire." Terror shot through Arthur, and he felt Merlin tense beside him. "She's gone, sire. She's been kidnapped."_

_MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN_

_The doors of the throne room flew open for a second time that evening. Merlin and Arthur were inside, trying to locate Gwen using a difficult finding spell. Arthur spun round at the Leon's entrance. "Do you have news?" the king cried desperately. But Leon shook his head, looking worse than before. "I'm afraid sire…there's an army approaching the castle, lead by Morgana." Arthur blanched. He had thought Morgana was dead. They all had, even Merlin. Leon was still talking. _

"_I'm sorry, sire, I'm so sorry, but you have to sound the alarm and gather the knights."_

_Arthur felt as though he was being torn apart inside. His kingdom or Gwen? Then Merlin appeared by his side, and Arthur found himself staring into the eyes of his best friend. "Go," he said, "You have to. I _will _find Gwen, I promise." _

_Arthur hesitated. He knew that Merlin's spell would put him in a light trance, and his friend would be defenceless. But Arthur had to defend his kingdom. "I'll leave some guards with you," he decided._

_Merlin nodded shortly and Arthur waved his hand at the guards standing by the door. "Stay with him," he told them, "Do not let anyone in, even me, unless they know your names," It wasn't a watertight check, he knew, but it would have to do. _

_He looked each of the guards in the eye one last time. "Protect Merlin with your life," he said gravely, "or you will lose yours." He caught sight of Merlin rolling his eyes at that, and allowed himself a small smirk._

_Then Arthur turned back to Leon, serious once more. "Let's go," he said, pulling Excalibur from his belt, "I will gather the knights, and you find Agravaine to warn him of the army."_

_MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN_

_Arthur was running through the castle as fast as he could, fighting a new enemy every few paces. These soldiers were different – not immortal, like the last ones, but almost impossible to beat. _

_They were a two thousand strong army of the best fighters Arthur had ever been up against, so good that they had to be magically enhanced. _

_These soldiers' skills were scaring him; if he could barely hold his own against them, how did anyone else have a hope? _

_The soldier he was fighting lunged for his chest and Arthur failed to block it. The point of the sword was inches away from his chest when another blade sliced the head off his enemy, who fell forward to reveal Sir Leon. _

_Arthur grinned with relief and clapped his friend on the shoulder. "Thank you, Leon. I thought I was dead for sure," But the smile slid off his face when he noticed Leon's expression. "Leon? What is it? What's happened?" _

"_I'm sorry, sire, but…" Leon trailed off and appeared to be fighting back tears. Arthur had never seen his friend like this, and it filled him with fear. "Percival and Elyan, Arthur. They're dead."_

_MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN_

_Arthur and Leon were slaughtering enemies with a vengeance now. The fierce rage that filled them gave them extra strength, and many of Morgana's army were falling at their feet. But they kept coming. _

_Leon had reported that he had not seen Gwaine since the battle had begun. In a normal battle Arthur wouldn't be worried, but against these soldiers? _

_He couldn't lose Gwaine as well. Not after Percival and Elyan. And Merlin would be heartbroken. Gaius had died a natural death only a year before, and to lose Gwaine so soon after? Arthur wasn't sure if Merlin would ever recover. _

_And then there was Agravaine. Leon said that Arthur's uncle had been missing from his chambers when the knight went to warn him of the attack. Had he been kidnapped as well? Or – Arthur forced himself to consider it – did he have something to do with this? _

_The thought made him so angry that he cut down the man in front of him with such speed that the nearby soldiers backed away._

_MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN_

_Arthur, Leon, and the rest of the remaining knights – except Gwaine – crashed back into the throne room, retreating from the army that was far too powerful for them. _

_The king's head was spinning. He had no idea if he could win this battle. Could he take Merlin and the nights, hide in the forest again? But where was Gwen? Had Merlin found her yet? And Gwaine? And Agravaine? _

"_Guard the door!" he shouted to two of the knights._

_The guards protecting Merlin stepped forward, drawing their swords. "Luthar Eanraig!" Arthur gasped, holding out his hands in a peace gesture, "And George Niad!" The guards relaxed and resheathed their swords._

"_Sorry sire," said Eanraig, looking slightly embarrassed, "Only, you told us to make sure -" _

_Arthur waved away the apology. "It's alright. You were doing your job." Then the guards were gone from his mind as he ran to Merlin. The Court Sorcerer was sitting, clearly still in his trance, his hands drifting over a map aimlessly. _

"_Merlin?" whispered Arthur hesitantly. No response. Arthur turned away from him. Merlin would wake up when he was finished, and tell him where Gwen was, but for now he needed a plan. He needed to think of something, anything, to fight back against Morgana's army. _

"_Right," he shouted to the people in the room, "I think I -" The king was cut off by a loud shout that came from outside. The entire room spun round and stared at the door. Arthur's heart was pounding. Were they here? The enchanted army?_

"_Arthur!" Merlin's voice made him forget the shout, forget everything, and turn to face his best friend. The sorcerer was on his feet, eyes wide and excited._

"_Merlin?"_

"_Gwen! I found her!" Hope shot through Arthur. _

"_Where?"_

"_She's -" Merlin stopped and frowned. "Arthur, she's… she's here. She's in the castle."_

_Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but he was interrupted by the throne room doors once more slamming open. The two knights who had been guarding the door fell into the room, both dead. _

_Arthur watched in detached horror as his uncle stepped over the bodies and strode into the room, a triumphant sneer on his face._

"_Your Majesty," he smirked, and bowed mockingly. Arthur simply stared at him, his mouth hanging open in shock. _

_He had always thought there was something a little off about Agravaine, and Merlin had never seemed to trust him, so he'd been careful to double check the advice he gave with Merlin or Gwen, but this…he'd never expected this level of betrayal. But then, he never expected it from Morgana either._

_A quick glance round at Merlin told him that his friend hadn't known either, but he looked less surprised, like he'd suspected it._

"_Nothing to say, Sire?" jeered Agravaine. Arthur cleared his throat, trying to regain his voice and his authority._

"_Agravaine," he growled, "Where is Guinevere? Where is your Queen?" _

_Agravaine simply laughed. White hot anger rose up inside the king. _

"_Merlin!" he roared, "Bind him, and _make _him tell me!"_

_Merlin raised his hands, his normally kind eyes flashing furiously. But a loud, horribly familiar voice stopped him, and caused every knight in the room to draw their swords._

"_Oh, I don't think so, Arthur," said the voice from the corridor, and in walked the woman whom Arthur hated more than anything else in the world, holding a knife to his wife's throat. "Do you?" _


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_Arthur glared at Morgana with hate-filled eyes, and then looked to Gwen. She stared back at him, eyes wide and scared, but calm. _

"_Gwen," he whispered, "Are you alright?" Her eyes flicked sideways, to Morgana. _

"_Go on, my dear," she smiled mockingly, "You may answer him," _

_Gwen looked back at Arthur and nodded carefully._

_The king gritted his teeth. "Merlin! Kill her!" he snarled. _

"_Gladly," replied his friend. "__Yr wyf yn anfon__marwolaeth i -"_

_But Morgana cut him off again_

"_Arthur, if your pet sorcerer, or any of your knights, causes harm to me, Agravaine, or my soldiers, Gwen will be dead before either or you can move. Do you understand me?"_

_Arthur stared at her. Could she kill Gwen before Merlin killed her?_

"_Your kingdom would be safe, Arthur. But at what cost?"_

_And there it was again. That choice, between Gwen and Camelot. But who was he kidding? It was Gwen. It would always be Gwen._

_He looked at Merlin, whose arms were still raised, eyes full of grief. The court sorcerer opened his mouth to finish his spell._

"_Don't you dare," Arthur said heavily. "Don't you dare."_

_MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN_

"_Knights of Camelot," Morgana called to the few members of the round table that were still alive and not missing, "Now is your chance to pledge your allegiance to myself, your new queen, and the new age that Camelot is entering." _

_The knights stood silently in a line in front of the Morgana, their faces stony. Merlin and Arthur were on their knees next to her – Arthur bound in chains, gagged, and flanked by Morgana's soldiers, and Merlin wearing handcuffs that had been clamped on him by a smug Agravaine as soon as he and Arthur had surrendered._

_The handcuffs, Morgana had explained in her silky tones, drained a person of their magic, and so much of Merlin was magic that he could hardly stand. He slumped to one side, leaning partially on Arthur, eyes cast downwards. His mind was intact, but without his magic he was worse than useless against Morgana._

_Arthur supported his weight easily and kept his gaze on Gwen. An enchanted knife was hovering in front of the queen's heart, and eye contact with her was the only solace the kind had right now._

"_None of you?" Morgana was still talking, "You do disappoint me. But I am not surprised. I will give you one last chance. Join me, or I will kill you all. The people of Camelot will never bow to me if the knights are still alive. What is your choice?" _

_Leon stepped forward, his eyes full of hate, and grief for Percival, Elyan, and all the other friends he had lost that night. "I think I speak for all of us, _witch,"_ he spat, "when I say that we will never join you. We would rather die than betray our King, and Camelot."_

_Arthur tore his eyes from Gwen's and met with Leon's, his mind racing. He had to save Leon. Leon inclined his head ever so slightly to his king, and turned back to Morgana._

"_So be it," she snarled, and raised her hands. "__Yr wyf yn anfon__farwolaeth i Leon__!"_

_Merlin yelled out, and beside him Arthur roared behind his gag. But there was nothing either of them__ could do. The power shot from Morgana's hands, and hit Leon in the chest, throwing him backwards into the wall. He slumped to the ground, dead._

_Arthur yelled out again, struggling against his bonds and the soldiers that surrounded him. His eyes were fixed on his lifelong friend, his _only _friend before Merlin had shown up. His friend that had just died for him. _

_He slumped suddenly, all the fight in him gone. He barely noticed as Merlin struggled to his feet and staggered towards Morgana, and only looked up when he heard the sorcerer's roar of fury._

"_MORGANA!"_

_Morgana spun round, clearly astonished that Merlin was upright, but she barely had time to think about it before Merlin's eyes flashed and she flew backwards._

_Merlin crumpled to the ground, the strain of forcing his magic too much for him. The king renewed his efforts to get free, desparate to get to his friend before an incensed Morgana did. But it was no use. Merlin's attack had not been that strong, and Morgana was up on her feet and striding towards Merlin. As she walked, her eyes flashed gold and the rest of the knights fell dead. And then she reached Merlin._

"_You insignificant little _worm_!" she spat, and backhanded him brutally across the face. Merlin fell backwards, his strength gone, and lay there, breathing heavily. The king and queen watched with fear filled eyes as Morgana pulled out a long and gleaming knife, and crouched beside their best friend._

"_Look at the all-powerful Emrys," she drawled, "Not so powerful now, are we?"_

_Arthur cursed inwardly and struggled harder. He had to save Merlin, or his life would be worth nothing. He had spent a long time denying that, but no more._

"_I will wipe you off the face of this earth like the scum you are, _Emrys."

_Arthur fought his bonds._

"_I think using this knife instead of magic will be more fun, don't you, my dear?"_

Please, please, please, _Arthur begged in his head, _someone help him.

_Morgana put her face close to Merlin's. "Goodbye, old friend," she whispered, and raised the knife. _

_Arthur and Gwen screamed out._

_And a loud crash echoed around the room as something large and black dropped down from the huge candleabra on the ceiling. Morgana spun round, mouth open in shock, and Gwaine raised his head, his teeth bared in a challenge._

"_Die, bitch," he grinned, and shoved his knife into Morgana's heart._


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks for the reviews and follows guys, it really does mean a lot

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.

Chapter 4

_Arthur's heart sang as Morgana slumped to the floor, choking and gasping, and the knife in front of Gwen clattered to the floor. Gwaine was here now, alive and kicking. Morgana was dead for sure. Everything was going to be alright._

_The knight had dropped his knife, Morgana forgotten, and was kneeling next to Merlin._

"_You alright, mate?" he said, his light tone betrayed by the concern in his eyes._

_Merlin grinned weakly. "I am now, old friend. Is that my knife?" _

_Gwaine nodded, and looked at Arthur for a moment. "Merlin hid this knife and told me where," he explained to his king briefly, "It's one of the only ones with the power to kill Morgana, if she ever returned." Then his concentration was back on Merlin._

"_You have no idea how glad I am to see you," Merlin said._

_Gwaine returned his grin. "I was keeping an eye on you from up there, mate. She wouldn't have been allowed to hurt you."_

_The smile slid off Merlin's face. "What about Leon?" he asked quietly._

_The knight's face turned sombre. "I'm sorry, Merlin. She was standing in the wrong place, she would've killed me before I could get to her. And I couldn't leave you unprotected."_

_Merlin nodded. "I understand. You did what you had to."_

_Arthur growled behind his gag. He wanted to let them have their moment, but the guards who had been standing around in shock were beginning to re-assemble themselves. _

_Gwaine turned around with a chuckle. "Alright, princess, I'll get to you in a min- "_

_Gwaine stopped talking abruptly and looked down at the sword that sudddenly protruded from his stomach. _

_Arthur's heart stopped, as time seemed to slow down. Gwaine looked up and met Arthur's eyes, and the king stared at his friend's shocked expression for what felt like ten years._

_Then the moment was broken, and Gwaine fell to the ground, revealing Agravaine. He had forgotten about Agravaine. They all had._

"_NO!" _

_Merlin's heartrending scream ripped through Arthur like a knife, and he watched, feeling strangely detatched, as the court sorcerer crawled towards his friend. _

"_No no no no no," Merlin sobbed, pulling Gwaine onto his lap. "Please, oh God, please!"_

_Something inside Arthur snapped, and he roared to his feet, pulling himself away from the soldiers and ripping off his gag._

"_YOU BASTARD!" he screamed, "YOU COWARDLY BASTARD!"_

"_Guards!" Agravaine called lazily, and the magically strengthened soldiers pulled Arthur down again in seconds._

"_Now, now, Arthur, is that any way to talk to your king?" _

"_I wil kill you," snarled Arthur, "I will KILL you."_

"_Of course you will, dear nephew," smiled Agravaine indulgently, as he stepped over Morgana's body. Arthur felt a twinge of disgust at how unaffected Agravaine was by his mistress's death. "Take them to the balcony!"_

_The guards moved to drag Merlin away from Gwaine's body. The sorcerer had stopped crying and shouting and was just clinging on to his friend numbly. _

"_Get your hands off him!" Arthur yelled, "Don't touch him!"_

_The guards ignored Arthur and grabbed Merlin, and he didn't fight them. He just hung limply between them like a doll. Arthur had a sudden thought – what if Morgana's death meant Merlin's handcuffs no longer worked? _

_But it appeared the sorcerer had lost any will to fight, to even remember how to use his magic._

"_Merlin," cried Arthur, "Please, do something!"_

_Merlin didn't even turn his head as they dragged him out of the door towards the balcony._

_Arthur looked back one last time at the bodies of Leon and Gwaine as he followed Merlin._

"_Goodbye, my friends," he whispered, "and I'm sorry."_

_The king closed his eyes against the tears._

_MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN_

_Arthur, Gwen, and Merlin stood behind Agravaine, bound and held at knifepoint. The traitor stood at the front of the balcony, looking down at the people gathered in the courtyard. _

"_Citizens of Camelot," called Agravaine, "Your king and queen have been captured. Your knights are dead. Your new king stands before you. There is nothing you can do to rescue the king, or restore this kingdom to how it used to be. I am giving you one chance._

"_Accept me as your king, and bow before me, and your lives will be the same. You will be allowed to live in peace or you, your families, and your homes will be cut down without mercy. Make your choice carefully."_

_Arthur watched the crowd tensely. He knew how loyal his subjects were, and he knew they would never accept Agravaine as king, and he was proud of that. But he didn't want them to be harmed. _

_It was inevitable that was what was going to happen. The people would stay loyal to Arthur, and they would all be killed. Arthur cast his eyes down, unable to meet the gaze of the people who were going to die for him._

_And a far off call made him jerk his head back up._

_From the back of the courtyard, a man was shouting._

"_Long live King Agravaine! Long live King Agravaine!"_

_Arthur frowned in confusion. Surely this was just one madman, one coward...?_

_The rest of the crowd took up the chant, until it became unbearably loud, echoing and resonating around the castle._

"_Long live King Agravaine! LONG LIVE KING AGRAVAINE!"_

_Arthur couldn't breath, couldn't think. He never even considered that his people would abandon him. He looked at the crowd again, and gasped in horror._

_They were kneeling now, bowing before the king's traitorous uncle. Agravaine turned and looked Arthur in the eye, roaring with laughter._

_Arthur vaguely heard Gwen's voice, but it sounded far away._

"_They all have famillies...they don't want their children to die for us..."_

_Arthur couldn't take it anymore._

"_YOU TRAITORS!" he screamed, "YOU COWARDS, I AM YOUR KING!" _

_Agravaine strode over to his nephew, and a guard shut the door to the balcony, cutting off the noise of the cheering, traitorous crowd. He put his face very close to Arthur's._

"_Not any more you're not," he murmered smugly, "Not any more."_

_Arthur pulled his face away violently and twisted round to look at Merlin, who was standing with his head bowed behind him.  
_

"_Merlin! Merlin, please!" _

_Agravaine laughed again. _

"_Do you really think I would have left him alive if he still had magic, Arthur?"_

_Arthur stared at him, uncomprehending, and his uncle sighed patronisingly._

"_Arthur, a spell of this nature, on the handcuffs – if the original caster of the spell is killed, the spell is not broken. It is made permanent. Even if the handcuffs are removed."_

_Arthur whipped his head round to look at Merlin. The sorcerer had finally raised his head, and Arthur could see from his friend's heartbroken expression that he had expected what Agravaine had just said._

_The look on his face sent bolts of fear through Arthur. _

"_Merlin?" he asked hesistantly, "That's not true, it it? Merlin! Tell him!"_

_Merlin looked Arthur in the eye, a horrible look of resignation taking over his face. _

_The Court Sorcerer spoke to his king for the first time since Gwaine's death._

"_I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm so, so sorry." _

_Arthur couldn't speak. Then Merlin broke eye contact, and hung his head again, hanging limply, and looking for all the world like he was already dead._

"_Well, that clears that up," Agravaine said cheerfully, and Arthur had never wanted to kill anyone more. _

"_Now on to the official things. Arthur, as King of Camelot, I hereby banish you from Camelot. And to make it safer, you are banished from England. A ship is ready and waiting to take you to the Far East, where you will work till the day you die as a slave, a meaningless nobody."_

_Arthur felt as if he'd been punched in the stomach. He had been prepared for a death sentence._

"_I suppose you were expecting me to kill you?" Agravaine smiled benignly. "Well I was going to, but I think it would be far more painful for you to live with your demons, don't you?"_

_The king couldn't speak. He was right. Of course he was right. _

_Agravaine smirked. "That's what I thought. Now off you go – your carriage awaits!"_

_And suddenly the reality of the situation hit Arthur, as the guards started to drag him to from the door. There was no way out of this. Merlin could not save the day with his magic as he always had, and even if he did, Gwen would die. He was going to be taken away, and he would never see his best friend or his wife again._

_Arthur looked desperately at Merlin, who staring resolutely at his shoes as though that would stop it all from happening._

"_Merlin! Merlin, please!" There was no response._

"_Merlin, I know you're upset about Gwaine, and I'm sorry, but you have to do something!" The sorcerer didn't move a muscle. The king had never seen him so despondent._

"_Merlin!" Arthur screamed, and he realised vaguely that he was crying. "Merlin, you can't just give up, I won't let you! Oh God, please! Please! Merlin! MERLIN!" _

"_Arthur!" Gwen. He'd almost forgotten her._

"_Gwen, I love you! You have to be strong, ok? I'm coming back for you!"_

"_I love you too, Arthur!" She was sobbing now._

_Arthur kept his eyes on her, as though if he kept looking they couldn't be separated._

_But his line of sight was blocked by Agravaine._

"_If you ever set foot in England again," his uncle snarled, "I will kill them both."  
__  
And just before he slammed the door in his face, Arthur saw Merlin raise his head, and look right at Arthur with broken, hopeless eyes._

_Arthur heard the voice in his head._

"_I'm sorry, my brother. And I love you."_

_Then his family were gone, and Arthur's life crumbled around him._


	5. Chapter 5

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Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.

Chapter 5

*Present Day*

Anthony watched Arthur as the tale came to an end, fascinated by the story he was being told – the edited story, in which Arthur carefully left out that _he_ was the king mentioned.

Arthur stared off at the town, trying gather his thoughts and compose himself. It was the first time in years he had allowed himself to think about that night in such detail, and the pain in his heart was unbearable.

"And the queen, and the sorcerer, sir?" Anthony whispered, his face rapt, "What happened to them?"

Arthur turned back to him, an unemotional mask fixed firmly on his face.

"Oh, that was many years ago," he replied airily, "I doubt if anyone would know."

He bent and picked up his bag, determined to stop thinking about the past.

"Now, leave me, Anthony. There is somewhere I must go, something I must...find out. Now, and alone."

He had to find out, whatever he had just said to Anthony. He had to know what had become of his family.

"But surely we will meet again before I am off to Camulodunum?"

Arthur paused, and thought about Merlin's house, where he had moved when Gaius died, saying that he couldn't stay in the physician's chambers.

That was where he was going. If he remembered correctly, there was a kindly but slightly eccentric woman living on the bottom floor who owned a pie shop, and she might know something.

"You might find me," he told Anthony, "around Sowers Street, I wouldn't wonder."

"Until then, my friend," the sailor replied, and they shook hands. Then Arthur turned sharply and strode away. Anthony stood for a moment, disturbed by his friend's mysterious past, before turning and going his own way.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Arthur walked quickly along the street, his head bowed, avoiding eye contact. The emotions roiling around in him finally seeped out in a dark mutter, the things he had ranted at Anthony being repeated in a obsessive mantra:

"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit, and it's filled with the people who are filled with shit, and the vermin of the world inhabit it..."

And on and on, as thunder started to crash above him.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Arthur came to a stop outside the house, where 'Mrs Lovett's Meat Pies' was written above the shop front. It looked desolate and grimy, and the sight of Merlin's home in such a state saddened Arthur's heart.

He looked to the room above, where Merlin had lived. Through the window he could see that the room was dark, but that didn't mean that no one was living there now. He could hardly bear think of someone else in Merlin's house.

But now he had to be strong. He had to go into the shop, that held so many memories for him, and he had to talk to Mrs Lovett – ask her if she knew what had happened after he was sent away, maybe even where Merlin and Gwen were.

There was always a chance that she would recognise him, and Arthur wasn't entirely sure what he would do if that happened. But 15 years had passed, and he was sure that he had changed enough for this. He was older, sadder. More bitter.

The ex-king straightened his shoulders, and marched into the shop.

Mrs Lovett was standing behind the counter with her back to him. She was viciously chopping some rank looking meat, her greasy hair hanging around her face.

As soon as the bell on the door rang, her head snapped up with a gasp, and she spun round to fix her eyes on Arthur like a bird of prey.

"A customer!" she cried, as though it was a rare occurence – although looking at that meat, Arthur thought, he wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

He saw her eyes suddenly widen, and he panicked. This was a bad idea. If she recognised him – and she probably would – even if he got away, she would tell Agravaine, and if he still had Gwen, and Merlin, he would kill them.

He started to back towards the door, excuses forming on his tongue, but Mrs Lovett rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

"Wait!" she cried, "What's your rush, what's your hurry? You gave me such a fright, I thought you was a ghost!"

Arthur narrowed his eyes. Did that mean she'd recognised him?

"Half a minute," she was still talking, "Can't you stay? Sit yourself down, sit!"

She forced him into a chair, and Arthur obliged, not wanting to seem suspicous.

"All I meant is, I haven't seen a customer for weeks!" she explained breathlessly. Arthur relaxed slightly. That explained her surprise on seeing him.

"Did you come here for a pie, sir?"

Mrs Lovett didn't wait for an answer, and slammed a greasy pie down on the table in front of him.

"Please forgive me if me head's a little vague," she smiled, in a way that would've been welcoming had her teeth not been so revolting.

She looked down suddenly at a bug of some kind that was scuttling across the counter, and slammed her hand down on it.

"What was _that_?" she muttered, before turning her attention back to Arthur, while kneading dough.

"But you'd think we had the plague," she continued, "the way that people keep avoid - " she broke off again to kill a cockroach, with a shout of "No you don't!", and Arthur began to consider not eating his pie. Then she was back on Arthur and her dough.

"Heaven knows, I try, sir! But no one comes in, even to sniff at them. Right you are sir, would you like a drop of ale?"

She walked over to Arthur's table and poured out his drink for him, and her slightly manic way of talking that meant he hadn't been able to get a word in edgeways seemed to relax a little as she slumped in the chair next to him.

"Mind you," she sighed, "I can hardly blame them. These are probably the worst pies in Camelot!"

She chuckled to herself humourlessly.

"I know why nobody buys them," she told Arthur, "I should know, I make them!" She sighed again. "The worst pies in Camelot. Even that's polite."

Arthur wondered if he should contradict her, and say that they were lovely, but he hadn't actually eaten any yet. He didn't dare. Mrs Lovett looked up suddenly.

"If you doubt it, take a bite!" she cried.

Arthur did, and immediately wished he hadn't.

"Is that just disgusting?" she smirked, "You've got to agree. It's barely anything but crusting. Here," she handed him the bottle of ale, "drink this. You'll need it."

Arthur swigged out of the bottle, desparately trying to rid the taste of the pie from his mouth.

Mrs Lovett stood up again and wandered over to the counter.

"It's no wonder, really, with the price of meat what it is, when you get it - _if_ you get it! Never thought I'd live to see the day. I mean, you'd think it was a treat finding poor animals what are dying on the roads!"

Arthur nearly threw up. What had he just eaten?

Mrs Lovett remained oblivious. "Mrs Mooney has _her_ pie shop," she said conspiratorially, "She does her business and all, but I noticed something odd. Lately, all her neighbours' cats have disappeared!"

She roared with laughter, while Arthur made a mental note never to go to Mrs Mooney's pie shop, whoever she was.

"Well, you've got to hand it to her!" Mrs Lovett was saying, "It's a clever enterprise – popping pussies into pies!" She laughed again, and then suddenly sobered.

"Wouldn't do in my shop, mind. Just the thought of it's enough to make you sick!"

Arthur faintly heard her mutter to herself, "And them cats are bloody fast!"

"Well, there's no denying that times is hard sir," sighed the weary woman, leaning on the counter. "Even harder than my pies!"

Arthur suddenly felt self conscious about not eating the pie, and cautiously took another bite.

"Only lard, and nothing more. Isn't it revolting? All greasy and gritty. It looks like it's moulting, and tastes like - " she broke off, and smiled sadly.

"Well, it's a pity, is all I'm saying. Albert, my late husband that is, he used to be so proud of this shop. And now what's become of it? A woman alone, with the worst pies in Camelot!"

She sighed heavily. "Oh sir. Times is hard, times is hard!"

She looked over and noticed Arthur still struggling with his mouthful of pie. "Oh, just spit it out, love," she remarked tiredly, "there's worse than that on the floor."

Arthur hesitated, and then did so, privately thinking that it didn't change the appearance of the place.

"Isn't that a room above the shop?," he asked Mrs Lovett carefully. "If times are so hard, why don't you rent it out?"

Mrs Lovett looked up at the ceiling, and then back at Arthur, a strange look in her eyes.

"Oh, up there?" Her casual tone clashed with her intense and slightly probing gaze. "No one'll go near it." She paused. "People think it's haunted."

Ice shot through Arthur. "...Haunted?" That didn't mean that Merlin was...did it?

Mrs Lovett held his stare. "And who's to say they're wrong?" she whispered dramatically. "You see, years ago, something happened up there. Something not very nice."

Arthur stared at her, trying not to let his fear show on his face. The flames from the oven cast a flickering glow on her face as she began her tale.


	6. Chapter 6

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Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.

Chapter 6

"There was a king and his queen. And he was beautiful. A proper king, kind and compassionate, but also wise and brave. But he was banished from England for life. And he was...beautiful."

Arthur felt a little uncomfortable listening to the obvious infatuation this woman had had with him when he was king, of which he had been perfectly unaware.

"Pendragon, his name was," she was saying, "Arthur Pendragon."

"What was his crime?" Arthur was curious to know what his traitorous citizens thought he had done.

Mrs Lovett smiled mysteriously. "Foolishness." At Arthur's confused face, she carried on.

"He had this uncle, you see. Clever man. The Pendragons trusted him, but he turned out to be in league with the witch Morgana. They invaded the castle, killed all the knights, and took the king, queen, and the king's best friend, the Court Sorcerer, prisoner. Merlin – that was the sorcerer's name, Merlin. He lived in that room upstairs."

"Go on," Arthur growled, his whole body tense.

Mrs Lovett laughed. "My, you do like a good story, don't you?" At the unamused look on Arthur's face, she carried on hurriedly.

"Well, the witch placed an enchantment on Merlin so that he couldn't use magic. It was supposed to be temporary, but when she was killed in the battle, it was made permanent. So, the king was shipped off south, poor blighter, the queen was locked in the tower, and the sorcerer...

"Well, he was weaker without his magic, so the uncle let him go. Left him with nothing but grief and a load of spellbooks."

"And what then?" asked Arthur desperately.

"Ah, there was worse yet to come, poor thing." She leaned in closer, caught up in her tale.

"The uncle's chief guard, Bamford, calls on him a few days later, all polite like. King Agaravaine, he says, is so contrite, regrets what he did. Wants to make it up to him, and he has to come straight to the castle tonight. I don't think Merlin believed him, but he goes anyway. Says he has nothing to lose.

"Of course, when he goes there, poor thing, the castle is completley deserted, and littered with the bodies of his friends. He wanders about for hours, tormented. He thinks Agravaine is remorseful, he can't think straight because of his grief, and he walks the castle, _screaming_ for King Agravaine."

Arhur wanted to be sick. What Merlin had been through...he could hardly think about it. Mrs Lovett's voice got higher and faster as she became engrossed in her story.

"Well, Agravaine was there alright...only not so repentant. He finally stumbles upon this room, and he's immediately seized by guards. Then Agravaine comes out of the shadows, dragging the body of one of the knights, one of his closest friends.

"He'd thought this knight had been killed, but he was still alive, and he was forced to watch as his friend was tortured to death in front of him."

She paused for a moment, for the first time looking upset at the story. Arthur couldn't breathe. Which knight had it been, that had died so horrifically? And for Merlin to witness it...

"He never told me exactly what they did, but it was horrific things. The worst way to die, he said. Anyway, so once it was over, and the knight was dead, Agravaine walked over to him, and crouched down in front of him, and said that if he _ever _did_ anything_ to threaten his kingdom, he would do the exact same thing to the queen."

Arthur couldn't take any more.

"NO!" he roared wildly, leaping up and striding to Mrs Lovett. He yanked her out of her seat and pressed her against the wall, his face right next to hers. "Would no one help them?" he snarled.

Mrs Lovett didn't look terrified, like he expected, or even afraid. Just amazed.

"So it is you," she breathed, "Arthur Pendragon."

Arthur didn't care that she knew who he was anymore. "No!" he snarled vehemently, "Not Pendragon. That man is dead. It's Todd now, Albon Todd. Where is he?"

"So changed!" breathed Mrs Lovett, amazed. "What did they do to you down there in bloody Seres or wherever?"

"Where is he?" he cried again, letting her go and sinking on to a seat, "Where is Merlin?"

Mrs Lovett looked at him carefully, and sat down opposite. "Poisoned himself," she replied, "Arsenic from the apothecary round the corner."

Arthur let out an agonized moan, his head in his hands. He was too late. Too late to save his friend, who had saved his life so many times.

"I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"And my wife?"

"Guinevere? He's still got her."

"He? Agravaine?"

She nodded. "Keeps her in a room in the castle. I suppose he didn't have the heart to kill her, and he didn't want her organising a revolution or something. Adopted her as his ward."

Arthur sat and absorbed this sickening news.

"Nineteen years," he growled, "sweating in a living hell. Nineteen years dreaming I might come home to a my wife and my friend."

But even as he said it, he realised that he'd always known that was never a possiblility. It had only given him hope and kept him going through the years of loneliness.

He hit the counter in fury. "Let them quake in their boots – Agravaine and Bamford – for their hour has come!"

Mrs Lovett stared at him, half awed, half incredulous.

"You're going to – get 'em?" she said, "You? A bleeding little nobody of a runaway convict? Don't make me laugh! You'll never get His 'igh and Mightiness! Nor Bamford neither. Not in a million years!"

There was no reaction from Arthur.

"You got any money?"

Arthur simply stared broodingly into the fire.

"Listen to me! You got any money?"

"No money," Arthur said eventually.

"Then how you going to live, even?"

"I'll live," Arthur muttered grimly, "If I have to sweat in the sewers, I'll live – and I'll have them."

There was a long silence, and then Mrs Lovett gasped suddenly.

"I've just remembered!" she cried, and raced out. She returned quickly, holding a long wooden box wrapped in a red cloth.

Arthur stared at it uncomprehendingly as she placed on the table with reverence.

"See! It don't have to be the sewers. I hid it, you see, for Merlin," she explained as she unwrapped it, oblivious to Arthur flinching at the mention of the warlock. "He brought it back after the battle, said he couldn't let Agravaine get his hands on it. I promised him I'd look after it. You can work, maybe teach fighting!"

She took the lid off, and Arthur's jaw dropped. He reached out, his hands shaking.

"I don't believe it," he breathed. He gently picked up his sword and gazed at it, reading the inscription along the side.

_Excalibur_.

"It's chased silver, ain't it?" Mrs Lovett whispered excitedly.

"Silver, yes," Arthur replied vaguely, barely listening anymore. "This is my friend." Now he was almost talking to himself, nearly unaware that Mrs Lovett was even there. "See how it glistens, and shines, and smiles in the light. My faithful friend."

Mrs Lovett looked at him a little strangely, but he hardly noticed. He ran his hand along the edge of the blade, feeling how sharp it was.

"Speak to me, friend," he smiled for what felt like the first time in years, "Whisper, I'll listen. I know, I know – you've been locked out of sight all these years. Like me, my friend!"

He couldn't contain his joy at having his sword back. At last, he felt like something good had happened. He felt like he belonged.

"I've come home!" he laughed joyfully, "To find you waiting! Home, and we're together, and we'll do wonders. Won't we?" He laughed again, thinking about his beautiful sword killing Agravaine.

Mrs Lovett stepped forward, almost in a trance of her own – a trance of infatuation with Arthur.

"Ah, my friend. Let me hold you."

"I'm your friend too, Mr. Todd," she said quietly, "If you only knew."

"Rest now, my clever friend. Soon I'll use you."

"You've come home!" Mrs Lovett smiled comfortingly, "Always had a fondness for you, I did."

"Soon, you'll know splendors you never have dreamed all your days!"

"Never you fear, Mr. Todd. You can move in here."

"My lucky friend. Till now, your shine was merely silver." He smiled to himself as he imagined his revenge.

"Friend, you shall drip _rubies_," he hissed, his eyes glinting, "You'll soon drip precious rubies."

"I'm your friend. And you're mine," Mrs Lovett touched his shoulder gently, and finally looked at the sword, rather than at Arthur. "Doesn't it shine beautiful?" she whispered, "Silver's good enough for me, Mr T."

Arthur raised Excalibur high in the air, watching it shine in the candlelight.

"At last!" He laughed out loud, for the first time in 20 years full of joy. "My arm is complete again!"


	7. Chapter 7

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Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.

Chapter 7

Anthony walked through the square next to the castle, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling marketplace. He stopped a moment, trying to get his bearings, when he heard an unusual noise through the usual city clamoring; a woman humming.

He looked up and saw her - a woman, older than he was, but still beautiful, sitting at a window in the palace wall with bars, and sewing. She had dark skin, and her long ebony hair fell around her face. She looked so sad to Anthony, and the expression looked wrong on such a face.

He watched her, absolutely mesmerised, but she didn't look up from her needle until a bird seller passed. His birds fluttered and chirruped in their cages, and the woman looked up, a smile covering her face for the first time.

She leaned out of the window as far as she could to talk to the bird seller.

"And how are they today, sir?" she called.

"Hungry as ever, miss," The man smiled indulgently, and passed one of the cages on a long stick up to her window.

She smiled delightedly, and stroked the birds through the bars.

"Greenfinch and linnet bird, nightingale, blackbird," Anthony hear her sigh mournfully, "How is it you sing? How can you jubilate, sitting in cages, never flying free?"

She looked away from the birds, at the sky above.

"Outside, the sky waits, beckoning you," she said to the birds, "Just beyond the bars. How can you remain, staring out, maddened by the moon and the stars?"

Anthony's heart went out to her. He wondered if she was trapped, like the birds.

"How is it you sing _anything_?" The woman gazed sadly at the birds, and then passed them back to the bird seller, who went on his way.

She then turned to a lark in a cage beside her. She started to talk again, but Anthony felt as though she was speaking right to him.

"My cage has many rooms, damask and shadowy. Nothing there sings, not even my lark. Larks never will, you know, when they're in captivity." She trailed off, and looked in the direction that the bird seller had gone in.

"Greenfinch and linnet bird, nightingale, and blackbird," she said again, "Teach me how to sing. If I cannot fly, let me sing."

"I have sailed the world," breathed Anthony, "Beheld its wonders, from the pearls of Hispania to the rubies of Ariana, but not even in Camelot have I seen such a wonder..."

He moved closer to the window, trying to catch her eye.

"Look at me, look at me, miss," he cried breathlessly, "Oh, look at me, please, oh, favour me with your glance!"

The woman looked up, and his heart leapt, but she was staring off into the forest behind the city walls.

"Ah, miss, what do you see off there in those trees? Oh, won't you give me a chance?"

He laughed to himself, overjoyed at his good luck at having found this woman.

"Who would sail to Hispania, for all its wonders, when in Camelot's castle lies the greatest wonder yet?"

But then, as beautiful as she was, she looked so melancholy.

"Ah, miss," he sighed, "Look at you. So pale, and looking so sad and strange. Promise not to retreat to the darkness, away from your window, not till you look down here! Look at me!"

Suddenly, she looked down, and their eyes met. They stared at each other for a long moment, when a clawed hand grabbed Anthony's arm.

Anthony turned, frustrated, and realised it was the beggar man that had been there when he and Mr. Todd had first arrived.

He took a wary step back. It was a filthy tendril of a man, his foul clothes of rags hanging off him like a second skin.

"Alms, alms," the beggar man croaked, "For a miserable man, on a miserable, chilly morning."

Anthony hurriedly dug out a coin and dropped it into his hand.

"Thank yer sir, thank yer kindly," He peered up at him. "Beg pardon, sir, it's you!"

Anthony turned to find the woman had gone and the shutter was closed.

"One moment, sir," he said to the beggar, "Perhaps you know the name of the king living in this castle?"

"That! Oh, that's the great King Agravaine's castle, that is."

Anthony couldn't help but think the man had sounded a little nervous, but he pressed on with his questioning.

"And the lady who resides there?"

If anything, the beggar man now looked even more nervous – shifty eyed and starting to shuffle away.

"Ah her! That's Guinevere, his pretty little ward. Oh, but don't you go trespassing there, young man. Not if you value your hide. Tamper there and it's a good whippin' for yer!" He laughed suddenly. "You or any other youth wif mischief on his mind!"

Then he suddenly was right up close to Anthony again, laughing wildly and screeching like he did that morning, "Gimme your clothes! Gimme your food! Come on, gimme your money!"

Anthony tossed some coins at him and pushed him away, exasperated. He had been beginning to think that the man had some of his sanity left, but evidently he was wrong. The beggar picked up the coins and scampered off, cackling wildly.

The sailor turned to the bird seller, who was still wandering round the marketplace.

"Which one sings the sweetest?" he asked him.

"All's the same, sir," the bird seller replied, "Six pence and cheap at the price."

Anthony selected one and handed the man a coin. He held up the cage.

"This one sings bravely," he remarked, "But why does he batter his wings so wildly at the bars?"

The bird seller looked up, uninterested now he had made his sale. "We blind 'em, sir," he explained, "That's what we always does. Blind 'em, and, not knowing night from day, sing without stopping, pretty creatures." He started off. "Have pleasure of the bird, sir."

Anthony turned back to the window, and to his delight, saw that the woman – Guinevere – was back. He held up the cage, indicating that it was a present. She hesitated, then smiled and leant down. He reached up to give her the cage, and their fingers touched.

"I feel you, Guinevere," he said softly, as he stared into her eyes. He'd been half convinced he'd suddenly awaken, satisfied enough to dream her. But happily, so happily, he was awake, and she was real.

"Guinevere," he smiled, and she returned it, "I'll steal you away."

They were so absorbed with each other that neither of them noticed Agravine come up behind her.

"Guinevere!"

She turned sharply. "My lord!"

Forgetting the bird cage, she ran back into the room. Agravaine glared at him, and then followed her, slamming the shutters closed.

Anthony stood for a moment, unsure of what to do, when Agravaine and another man appeared at the door at the top of the steps.

"If I see your face again on this or any other neighbour street," he snarled, striding down towards Anthony, "You will rue the day you were born. Is that clear enough speaking for you?"

"But sire," Anthony started, "I swear to you that there was nothing in my heart that but the most respectful sentiments of -"

"Dispose of him, Bamford!" Agravaine called to the man beside him, striding back towards the castle.

Bamford smiled at him smugly, fondling the sword at his belt.

"You heard His Highness," he grinned.

"But friend," Anthony tried helplessly, "I have no fight with you."

Bamford grabbed the bird cage from him, reached inside, and took out the bird.

He very deliberately wrung its neck, and then tossed it away.

"Get the gist of it, _friend_?" he sneered, before following Agravaine back into the castle.

Inside, Agravaine stood behind Gwen, smiling sickenly at her. She refused to turn or meet his eye.

"Guinevere," he said in mock horror, "If I were to think you encouraged that young rogue.."

Gwen gritted her teeth. "I hope," she growled, swallowing down her revulsion, "always to be obedient to you commands."

Agravaine laughed lightly. "Dear child." His patronising gaze turned to lust. "How sweet you look in that light muslin gown..."

Gwen shivered and stood up to move away from him. Agravaine stood staring at her for a moment, then growled under his breath and strode out of the room.

Still outside, Anthony glowered at the house. His decision was made. He threw the empty cage to the side, smashing it.

"Does he think that walls can hide you?" he yelled at the now empty streets as he walked away from the castle. "I will be at your window, in the dark beside you, my dear, sweet Guinevere!"

He turned one last time, to look at the window. "One day," he promised himself, "I'll steal you. Till then, my love!"

He blew a kiss to the window, and then turned and set off at a run.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Arthur and Mrs Lovett walked into the marketplace the next morning, Arthur holding Excalibur and carefully keeping his head down. Mrs Lovett pointed to a hand drawn caravan on the other side of the square painted like a foreign donkey cart.

On the side was written in ornate script, "Signor Adolfo Pirelli – Personal Knight Trainer to His Royal Majesty the King of Neapolis", and underneath that "Pirelli's Miracle Elixir – Become a master fighter!"

Arthur followed her gaze. "That's him? Over there?"

She nodded. "Yes, dear. He's always here Thursdays."

Arthur read the sign aloud as they crossed the square.

"From Italia. All the rage, he is," Mrs Lovett told him.

Arthur gave a snort of derision. "Not for long."

She looked at him worriedly. "Mr T, do you really think you can do it?"

"By tomorrow," Arthur said, "They'll be flocking after me like sheep."

Mrs Lovet sighed, looked back at the crowd – and gasped. "Oh no, look!" she cried, "Bamford!"

Arthur looked over and smiled grimly. "So much the better."

"But what if he recognises you? Hadn't we better -"

He silenced her with a look. "I will do what I have set out to do."

Mrs Lovett was about to retort when a small, skinny boy of about 13 popped through a curtain at the rear of the caravan, beating a tin drum and shouting.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please?"

A crowd of people started to gather.

"Gentlemen! Do you end every fight for your honour with shame and despair? Do you fail to win fights against the easiest opponents? Well, gentlemen, from now on you can win with ease! You need never again have a worry or care, I will show you...a miracle!"

The crowd gasped, and Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Pirelli's Miracle Elixir, gentlemen!"

He whipped out a small bottle, and the crowd started clamouring to get closer to the stage.

"Drink two spoonfuls of this, gentlemen," the boy called over the noise, "and Pirelli _guarantees _that within a day you will be _unbeatable _in a fight! This is sorcery, gentlemen, of the highest quality!"

Arthur scowled. He had seen "sorcery of the highest quality", and its wonder and power. This was little more than a con, and it felt to Arthur like an insult to Merlin.

On the stage, the boy was still talking, and handing out the bottles.

"How about a bottle, mister? Only cost a penny, guaranteed!"

The bottles were passed around the crowd until they reached Arthur and Mrs Lovett.

"Pardon me, ma'am, what's that awful smell?" Arthur commented loudly to Mrs Lovett.

"Are we standing near a open trench?" she replied, just as loudly.

"Must be!"

The boy glanced nervously at them, and spoke a bit louder to get the crowds attention.

"Buy Pirelli's Miracle Elixir! You will have your pick of the girls, sir!"

Arthur grabbed a bottle from a man near him, uncorked it, and sniffed.

"What is _that_?" he cried. "Smells like piss!" He handed it back distastefully.

Mrs Lovett sniffed hers. "Smells like – phew!"

A man who was about to buy a bottle paused. "He says it smells like piss," he said to his friend doubtfully.

"Looks like piss, too," Arthur added helpfully. "This is piss. Piss with ink!"

"Wouldn't touch it if I were you, dear," said Mrs Lovett.

The crowd started to mutter amongst themselves suspiciously.

"Penny for a bottle!" the boy called desperately, "How about a sample, mister?"

"Give us back our money!" called a woman from the front, and soon the whole crowd joined in.

"If you think that piss can fool us -"

"Did you ever - ?!"

"Give 'em back their money!"

"Never mind that madman, mister," the boy cried above the noise, trying to turn the crowd away from Arthur. It was completely futile.

"Where is this Pirelli?" called Arthur.

The crowd yelled their agreement.

The boy kept going, beating his drum out of rhythm.

"Let Pirelli's improve your life -"

"Keep it off your boots though!" yelled Arthur, "Eats right through them!"

"Go and get Pirelli!" one man cried.

"Yes," the boy shouted, "Get Pirelli's! Use a bottle! Ladies love it -"

"Flies do too!" interrupted Mrs Lovett. The crowd roared with laughter.

"Give us our bloody money!" they chanted.

The boy looked around the angry faces, and appeared to run out of energy. "Ladies and Gentlemen, the maker of the elixir!"

He yanked the curtain aside, collapsed in exhaustion, and Pirelli stepped on to the stage. He was dressed excessively flamboyantly - a glittery suit, with thick, wavy hair, and a dazzling smile.

The crowd fell silent, stunned. Pirelli bowed and posed splendidly for a moment, waving around an ornate sword.

"I," he announced grandly, with a thick Italian accent, "am Adolfo Pirelli, the king of the sword fighters, and the sword fighter of kings. Buon giorno, good day! I blow you a kiss!" He did so, towards a young woman at the front, who blushed and fluttered her eyelashes.

"And I," he he continued, "the most famous Pirelli wishes to know who has the nerve to say my elixir is piss!" He glared intimidatingly at the crowd. "Who says this?"

Arthur stepped forward. "I do," he said, holding up a bottle of the elixir, "I am Mr. Albon Todd and I have opened a bottle of Pirelli's Elixir, and I say to you it is nothing but an arrant fraud, concocted from piss and ink."

"He's right!" called Mrs Lovett, sniffing it theatrically, "Phew! Better to burn your money!" She tossed the bottle to the ground, and the onlookers oohed and aahed in shocked excitement.

The boy had pulled himself to his feet again, and began banging agitatedly on the drum. "Ladies and Gentlemen, pay no attention to that madman. Who's the first for a sword fighting lesson with Pirelli himself?"

"And furthermore," Arthur broke in, glaring at Pirelli, "I have serviced no kings, yet I wager that I can wield a sword with ten times more dexterity, and win a fight against any street mountebank!"

He drew out Excalibur, and held it high. The crowd gasped. "You see this?" he called, feeling nervous. If anyone recognised his sword, he was finished.

"The finest in Camelot!" boasted Mrs Lovett.

"I lay it against five gold pieces you are no match for me. You hear me, sir? Either accept my challenge or reveal yourself as a sham."

The crowd laughed and cheered, obviously on Arthur's side. Pirelli, as imposing as ever, held up a hand for silence. Slowly he swaggered towards Arthur, took Excalibur, and examined it closely.

"This is indeed a fine sword," he said. "You wager this against five gold pieces, sir?"

"I do."

"You hear this foolish man?" Pirelli laughed, "Watch and see how he will regret his folly. Five gold pieces it is!"

Arthur nodded shortly and turned to the crowd. "Will Bamford be the judge?" he asked, the malicious glint in his eye barely visible.

Bamford smiled proudly and stepped forward. "Glad, as always, to oblige my friends and neighbours." He gestured to two spots on the ground. "Stand there," he told the two men. "Ready?"

"Ready!"

"Ready."

"Begin!"

The two men circled each other warily, Pirelli performing over the top flourishes and tricks with his sword.

Arthur rolled his eyes, waited until Pirelli was focused on winking at a woman in the crowd, and lunged forward. Pirelli, taken by surprise, put his sword up in a defensive position, but his moment of distraction meant he was on to a loser.

Arthur could tell immediately that this man was no trained fighter. All he had to do was use the base of Excalibur to flip Pirelli's sword out of his hand. With a swift kick to his chest, Pirelli was on his back, the tip of Excalibur at his throat.

Arthur grinned fiercely. It felt unbelievably good to have his sword back in his hand – like old times. He was out of practice, but still better than Pirelli by far.

Pirelli scowled and pushed the sword away, getting to his feet indignantly.

"The winner is Todd!" called Bamford. The crowd cheered,

"I claim the five gold pieces," smiled Arthur.

"Wait!" called Pirelli suddenly. Arthur rolled his eyes again and turned. "A rematch!"

Arthur sighed and nodded reluctantly.

"Now," Pirelli laughed smugly, "We see who is the victor. This Mr. Todd – or the great Pirelli!"

The two men faced each other again, Arthur sighing in exasperation. It really was unnecessary for this man to humiliate himself again.

"Begin!" called Bamford.

This time Pirelli lunged forward first, but his movements were fuelled by anger, and easy to counteract. Arthur sidestepped and disarmed him in one effortless move, leaving the other man swordless once more and even angrier.

The crowd roared with laughter and cheered again. "The man's a bloody wonder!" someone called out, and the crowed yelled their agreement.

Bamford beamed at Arthur, who smiled tightly back. "The two-time winner," he announced, "Mr. Albon Todd!"

Pirelli stalked over to Arthur, still trying to retain his dignity, and grabbed his sword back.

"Sir," he smiled through gritted teeth, "I bow to a skill far defter than my own."

"The five gold pieces?"

Pirelli grimaced, and then produced a flamboyant purse. "Here, sir. And may the good Lord smile on you," he smiled rather sinisterly as he pressed the money into Arthur's hand, "until we meet again. Come, Toby!" This he directed at the boy, who jumped to attention.

Pirelli bowed to the crowd, although most had by now lost interest. "Bellissime signorine! Buongiorno! Buongiorno a tutti!" he called dashingly. He scowled at the lack of response, and then stormed into the caravan, kicking the boy – Toby – ahead of him.

Arthur shook his head and went back to Mrs Lovett, who laughed delightedly.

"Who'd have thought it, dear?" she crowed, "You pulled it off!"

The crowd began to cluster around. "Oh, sir, Mr. Todd, sir," one man called, "Do you teach sword fighting yourself?"

"He certainly does!" beamed Mrs Lovett, "Albon Todd's Swordfighting – above my meatpie shop on Sowers Street!"

Bamford strolled over as the crowd dispersed, chattering amongst themselves.

"Mr Todd," he said thoughtfully, "Strange, sir, but it seems your face is known to me."

Mrs Lovett laughed nervously, trying to conceal her worry. "Him? That's a laugh – him being my uncle's cousin and arrived in Camelot for the first time from Glevum yesterday."

"But already, sir," Arthur said smoothly, "I have heard the name Bamford spoken of with great respect."

Whatever dim suspicions Bamford may have had were allayed by the flattery, and he smiled. "Well sir, I try my best for my neighbours," he said proudly, and then turned to Mrs Lovett. "Sowers Street? Above your pie shop, ma'am?"

"That's it, sir."

"Then, Mr Todd, you will surely see me before the week is out."

Arthur's face was expressionless. "You will be welcome, Bamford. And I guarantee to give you, without a penny's charge, the most skilled sword demonstration you will ever know."

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Agravaine stood outside Guinevere's room nervously. He was preparing himself to go inside and tell her how he felt. He had struggled with his feelings for her for some time. At first, he had only kept her for levarage against the sorcerer, but he hadn't seen him for years now, and he knew Merlin was probably dead.

So why did he still keep her? Would it not be easier to kill her, cut off all ties with the old kingdom, and Arthur? But he had grown to care for her. She used to behave herself, he knew, because he had told her that he had Merlin in captivity also, and she couldn't bear for anything to happen to her friend.

But as he had grown to care for her, he liked to believe that she had grown to care for him. He had always treated her well – her rooms were spacious, she was fed well, and she was allowed whatever she wanted to keep herself entertained. Maybe she appreciated all that, and maybe she loved Agravaine as he now loved her.

He peered in through the keyhole, to see her sitting in the sunlight, sewing.

"Oh, Guinevere," he sighed, captivated by her beauty. "I'll keep you here forever. I'll marry you this week. We will be happy together!"

He unlocked the door and strode in, and Gwen jumped up.

"My Lord!"

"Guinevere," he smiled, "I trust you've not been near the window again."

She sighed and sat again, her eyes falling on the key Agravaine had left in the lock. "Hardly, sire, when it has been shuttered and barred since yesterday."

"How right I was to insist on such a precaution, for once again he has come, that conscienceless young sailor! Ten times he has been driven from the square near your window, and yet..." He trailed off, smitten with her beauty. "How beautiful that gown looks on you."

Gwen turned away uncomfortably. "It's nothing but an old dress, sire,"

"But fairer on your form than wings on an angel. Oh, if I were to think..."

Gwen barely concealed a shudder and moved demurely to the door.

"Think what, sire?" she asked nonchalantly.

"If I were to think you encouraged this young rogue..." He gazed at the lark in the cage casually, but he was on edge. What if she said he was in love with the boy?

"I?" Gwen asked innocently, keeping an eye on Agravaine's turned back as she slipped the key out of the lock and into her pocket. "A maid, who finds modesty and obedience the greatest of all virtues?"

When Agravaine smiled and turned back to her, Gwen was standing guiltlessly away from the door. "Venal young men of the street," he told her, glad that she agreed with his views, "with only one thought in their heads. But," he added carefully, his heart pounding in anticipation, "there are men of different and far higher breed. There is such a man that has announced his...feelings for you."

Gwen stiffened, dreading his next words. She had barely spoken to anyone except Agravaine for years, which had to mean...

"Oh?" she asked, trying to conceal her fear.

"A gentle man, who would shield you from all earthly cares and guide you with love." He had decided – and he hoped she had also – to pretend she had never married Arthur. He would be her first husband, and the sole love of her life. "A husband," he continued, "a protector, and yet...an ardent lover, too." He stepped forward and took her hands.

"It is a man who through the years has surely earned your affection." He dropped to his knees.

Gwen's jaw dropped, and she pulled away from him desparately. "You?!" she gasped, although she had suspected it.

Agravaine stared at her, taken aback and hurt by her reaction. This was not what he had expected at all. Perhaps it was just the shock. Perhaps she just needed time. "I'll let you think on it," he said, awkwardly getting to his feet. "I'll come back for your acceptance tomorrow." He left the room quickly, shutting the door behind him.

Gwen sat down heavily on the bed, horrified. She missed Arthur so much, and was struggling with her feelings for the sailor more and more each day, but to marry Agravaine? The man who had sent her husband away, taken his kingdom, killed her friends?

She hated him. She couldn't keep the facade of obedience going any longer, not now... Gwen had overheard a conversation through between two of the castle cooks through her window. People used to be careful about avoiding her window, but they had grown complacent, and she had heard them talking, and now she knew.

Of course Agravaine didn't have Merlin. She couldn't believe she had been taken in by his lies so easily, and had stayed here all this time, trying to keep him safe.

But if he'd been free all these years, where was he? Why hadn't he tried to rescue her? Gwen didn't know what her old friend was doing or even if he was still alive, but she realised that she was on her own now.

Even if it felt like she was betraying Arthur, Gwen knew that this sailor was a good man. She had to sneak him into the castle, and talk with him. That or marry Agravaine. Gwen knew she would rather die.


	9. Chapter 9

Thanks for the follows and reviews guys :D

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Chapter 9

Arthur paced up and down the length of his room, swinging Excalibur absentmindedly. He was desparate, so desparate, to have his vengeance. As soon as Bamford came he would kill him, and then he could concentrate on Agravaine.

He paused, the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. Everyone he had ever been close to was dead, apart from Gwen. And even she was locked up. Maybe she'd lost her mind.

He shook his head, trying to dispel such thoughts. He had to get her back. It was too late for Merlin, but he could save her.

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs and started. Maybe it was Bamford! He tensed, Excalibur raised, quivering with anticipation, as the door swung open.

Mrs Lovett walked in, holding a wooden chair, and Arthur slumped, disappointed. He returned to his pacing, all but ignoring Mrs Lovett's chatterings.

"It's not much of a chair for your clients, but it'll do till you get a fancy new one." She place it in the corner of the room. "It was me poor Albert's chair, it was. Sat in it all day long he did, after his leg gave out from the dropsy."

She surveyed the room, looking critically at the long chest, which was the sole piece of furniture. "Bit bare, isn't it? I never did like a bare room. Oh well, we'll find some nice little knicknacks."

Arthur swung round, unable to contain himself any longer. "Why doesn't Bamford come?" he snarled, "'Before the week is out', that's what he said."

Mrs Lovett sighed exasperatedly. "And who says the week is out yet? It's only Friday!"

Arthur growled and began pacing again. Mrs Lovett watched him anxiously,

"Easy now," she said gently, as though talking to spooked horse, "Hush, love. I keep telling you, what's your hurry? Keep your thoughts nice and calm. Wait."

Arthur ignored her and continued pacing, only stopping to punch the wall in frustration. She tried again.

"Hush, love. Think it through. Once it bubbles, then what? Watch it close, and let it brew. Wait."

Arthur calmed slightly and sat in the chair. Mrs Lovett, pleased, gazed around the room again. "I've been thinking flowers – maybe daisies – to brighten up the room." Arthur didn't respond. "Don't you think some pretty daisies might relieve the gloom?" she coaxed. There was still no response, and she sighed.

"Ah, wait, love. Wait." she told him.

"And Agravaine?" Arthur growled suddenly, "When will I get to him?"

"Can't you think of nothing else?" cried Mrs Lovett, "Always brooding away on your wrongs what happened heaven knows how many years ago!"

Arthur turned away with a hiss.

"Slow, love," Mrs Lovett sighed again, "Time's so fast. Now goes quickly – see, now's gone! Soon will come, soon will last. Wait."

Arthur relaxed again, and Mrs Lovett placed a hand on his shoulder gently.

"Don't you know, silly Mr. T," she chuckled gently, "Half the fun is to plan the plan! All good things come to those who can wait."

She looked around the dark room again. "Gillyflowers, maybe," she said absently, "Instead of daisies. I don't know, though. What do you think?"

Arthur hadn't heard a word, his mind still on his vengeance. He thought of running Agravaine through with Excalibur, and smiled docilely.

"Yes," he whispered.

Mrs Lovett beamed, pleased to have got a response from him on the subject of flowers.

"Gillyflowers, I'd say. Nothing like a nice bunch of gillyflowers." She took Excalibur from him and gently laid it on the chest of drawers.

Footsteps thundered up the stairs. The effect on Arthur was electric. He jumped up, and Mrs Lovett hastily gave him Excalibur back.

But the door swung open to reveal Anthony. Arthur slumped down again.

"Anthony." He greeted the younger man disinterestedly.

"Mr Todd!" cried Anthony, "I've paced Sowers Street a dozen times with no success, but now the sign – in business already!"

"Yes."

"I congratulate you," Anthony smiled warmly, and turned to Mrs Lovett. "And..er.."

"Mrs Lovett, sir."

Anthony smiled again. "A pleasure, ma'am." He turned back to Arthur. "Oh, Mr Todd, I have so much to tell you! I have found the most beautiful and most loving maid that any man could dream of! But there are problems. She has a guardian so tyrannical that she is kept shut up from human eye. But this morning this key fell from her shuttered window."

He held up a key excitedly. "This is the surest sign that Guinevere loves me and -"

"Guinevere?!" Mrs Lovett gasped.

Arthur sat frozen in place. It couldn't be, it couldn't be...

"That's her name, ma'am," Anthony grinned, looking slightly taken aback by her reaction, "And the abominable man King Agravaine. As I said, a monstrous tyrant. But Mr Todd, once he has gone hunting, I'll slip into the castle and plead with her to fly with me tonight. When I have her -"

He hesitated, and stepped forward, staring imploringly at Arthur. "Can I bring her here, till I have hired a horse and cart to speed us to Camulodunum? Oh, Mr Todd, if I could lodge her here, just for an hour or two!"

There was a pause, as he gazed at the inscrutable Arthur.

"Bring her here, love," said Mrs. Lovett after a moment.

"Oh thank you, thank you, ma'am!" He looked back to Arthur. "I have your consent, Mr Todd?"

Arthur unstuck his jaw. "The girl may come," he replied stiffly.

Anthony's face lit up, and he grabbed Arthur's hand and shook it enthusiastically. "I shall be grateful for this to the grave!" he cried, and turned to shake Mrs. Lovett's. "Now I must hurry. The king will be leaving soon."

He ran away, and turned at the door. "My thanks! A thousand blessings on you both!" And with that he was gone.

Mrs. Lovett turned to Arthur, eyes wide. "Guinevere!" she breathed, "Who'd have thought it! It's like fate, ain't it? You'll have her back before the day is out!"

Arthur frowned, reluctant to get his hopes up, but inside his thoughts were racing.

_Guinevere…she's coming back to me…._

"For a few hours?" he said out loud, "Before he carries her off to the other end of Albion?"

Mrs. Lovett snorted. "What, the sailor? Don't be silly! As soon as she sees you, she'll forget about him! Let her bring him here and then, seeing as you're so hot for a little…" she drew her finger across her neck, "That's the one to kill, dear."

Arthur frowned again. It sounded so simple, but he knew from experience it wouldn't be. He did want to be the one to rescue Gwen, but he couldn't risk Agravaine seeing him in the castle.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he missed the small scowl on Mrs. Lovett's face, and how reluctantly she had spoken about Guinevere's rescue.

As she turned away from him, the door swung open again, and Arthur spun around. Pirelli and Toby were standing in the door, the former staring around the bare room in distaste.

"Good morning, Mr Todd," he said, and then bowed extravagantly, "and to you, bellissima signora." He kissed Mrs. Lovett's hand.

"Well, how do you do, signor, I'm sure." she replied hesitantly, unsure of how to respond, seeing as she had badmouthed his elixir just a few days before.

"A little business with Mr Todd, signora," Pirelli said smoothly, as Arthur glared at him. What was he doing here? What did he want? "Perhaps if you will give the permission?"

"Oh yes," she replied, flustered, "I'll just pop down to my pies." She stopped on her way out and surveyed Toby. "Oh lord, look at the poor thing!" she cried, "Don't look like it's had a kind word since half past never!" She bent down and smiled kindly at him. "What would you say, son, to a nice juicy meat pie, eh? Your teeth is strong, I hope?"

Toby beamed, and Arthur felt a bit sorry him. He hoped the boy was hungry enough to not notice how they tasted.

"Oh, yes, ma'am," Toby cried, and Mrs. Lovett smiled and took his hand, leading him downstairs.

Pirelli barely noticed his assistant leaving, as he was still gazing intensely at Arthur.

"Mr. Todd."

"Signor Pirelli."

Pirelli grinned suddenly, and when he spoke, the Italian accent was gone, and a common English accent was in its place. "Danny's the name when it's not professional," he sneered, and looked around the shop, "Not much, but I imagine you'll pretty it up a bit."

Arthur rolled his eyes. So the man was a fraud – that was no surprise. But why was he here?

Pirelli – or Danny – held out his hand. "I'd like me five gold pieces back, if you don't mind," he said with a devious grin.

Arthur glowered at him. "Why?"

His irritating grin didn't waver. "It'll hold me over till your clients start coming. Then it's half your profits you'll hand over to me every Friday. Share and share alike! Alright, Mr _Arthur Pendragon_?"

Arthur froze, his mind racing. How did he know? Had he recognised him? If he had, would other people?

"Why do you call me that?" he asked very quietly.

"You don't remember me," Pirelli remarked, "Why should you? I was just a down and out lad you hired for a couple of weeks – polishing armour, moving targets and such like – but I remember that." He gestured to Arthur's sword. "Excalibur," he breathed, "Knew it was you as soon as I saw it. There was no way you or that pet sorcerer of yours would let anyone else get hold of it, so it had to be you."

Arthur clenched his fists at hearing his friend talked about as though he was nothing.

"Arthur Pendragon, the king who was exiled from his own country."

The anger inside Arthur was growing.

"So, Mr _Todd,_" Pirelli sneered, "is it a deal or do I run down to the castle for my dear friend King Agravaine?"

For a long moment Arthur stood staring silently at him, and Pirelli chuckled nastily.

"You foolish-a boy," he taunted, laying the fake Italian accent on thick, "You think-a you smart? Tomorrow you-a start working for me, yes? You unnerstan? You like-a my plan -"

Arthur leapt forward and seized Pirelli by the throat, cutting off his jibes. He forced the other man against the wall and squeezed his neck, ignoring the weak defences.

Pirelli's arms flailed wildly as his eyes began to slip closed, life seeping out of him. Arthur held him effortlessly, his face neutral, as though he hadn't quite registered his actions yet.

Suddenly he heard the pounding of feet on the stairs, and Toby's high voice calling out.

"Signor! It's late! The tailor, sir!"

Arthur stopped dead at the sound of the boy's voice. He looked around wildly and saw the chest in the corner of the room. He ran to it and opened the lid, and dragged the half-dead Pirelli to it and stuffed him inside, slamming the lid shut just as Toby burst in.

"Signor, I did like you said. I reminded you…the tailor…" He trailed off and looked around in bewilderment. "Oh. He ain't here."

"Signor Pirelli has been called away," said Arthur calmly.

"Where did he go?"

"He didn't say. You'd better run after him."

"Oh no, sir," Toby replied, looking worried, "Knowing him, sir, without different orders, I'd best wait for him here."

He crossed to the chest and sat on it, and Arthur's heart leapt. One of Pirelli's hands was sticking out of the chest. Arthur plastered a fake smile on his face.

"So, Mrs. Lovett gave you a pie, did she, my lad?"

"Oh yes, sir. She's a real kind lady. One whole pie!" He leant back, his hand going perilously close to Pirelli's. Arthur started forward edgily.

"A whole pie, eh?" he smiled, as he moved carefully moved forward, "That's a treat. And yet, if I know a growing boy, there's still room for more, eh?"

"I'd say, sir!" Toby patted his stomach enthusiastically.

Again, his hand was on the edge of the chest, moving towards Pirelli's. Arthur's heart nearly stopped when he realised Pirelli's fingers were stirring, feebly trying to clutch Toby's. He jumped forward and pulled Toby up and off the chest.

"Then why don't you run downstairs and wait for your master there? There'll be another pie in it for you, I'm sure." Arthur grinned, a little manically. "And tell Mrs. Lovett to give you a nice big tot of gin!"

Toby's face lit up. "Ooh, sir! Gin, sir! Thanking you, sir, thanking you kindly. Gin! You're a good man indeed, sir!"

He sprinted out the door and down the stairs, and Arthur crossed quickly to the chest. With swift ferocity, he pulled open the chest and yanked the moaning Pirelli out by the hair. He looked the other man in the eye for a moment, and then plunged Excalibur into his heart.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Agravaine and Bamford rode through the forest in comfortable silence, on the way back from a successful hunting trip.

"Bamford," said Agravaine suddenly, "I have happy news for you." He took a deep breath and smiled. "I have decided to marry Guinevere. Next Monday."

Bamford sighed inwardly, and smiled back at his master with gritted teeth. "Ah, sire, happy news indeed," he replied unenthusiastically. In truth, he had expected this for some time, but he was not as delusional with love as Agravaine. He could see Guinevere's hate for her captor, and marrying her would only lead to trouble for the kingdom. But he wasn't about to be the first to break it to him.

"Strange, though," Agravaine continued, "When I offered myself to her, she showed a certain…reluctance."

Bamford resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Was Agravaine really that stupid? He had killed the woman's friends and family, as good as killed her husband, and stolen her kingdom, all in one day. Then he had locked her up for 20 years. Of course she was "reluctant"!

"But that's natural enough for a woman of her honour," the king was saying, "Now that she's had time for reflection, I'm sure she will meet my proposal in a more sensible frame of mind."

Bamford made a noncommittal noise of agreement, and they rode on in silence.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Gwen paced her room nervously. Agravaine and Bamford had gone hunting; where was the sailor? She needed to talk to someone, anyone, about Agravaine's proposal. What if he had changed his mind? What if he'd been killed? What if –

The door creaked open slowly, and the sailor's head poked round the door.

"Sir!" cried Gwen, and she pulled him into the room and shut the door. "Did anyone see you?"

"No," replied Anthony, and Gwen locked the door swiftly. "We have to be quick, they may be back soon," she told him. He sat on the bed, staring at her in awe.

She paced the room a few times in agitation and fear, and then turned to him. "He – Agravaine – means to marry me on Monday!" she cried desperately. "What am I going to do? I'd rather die!"

Anthony's heart ached for this poor, beautiful woman. "I have a plan," he tried to tell her, but she was too worked up to listen.

"I'll take poison on Sunday, that's what I'll do. I'll get some poison."

"I have a plan -" Anthony tried again, but she stopped pacing suddenly to stare at the door.

"Was that a noise?" she whispered urgently.

"A plan -"

"I think I heard a noise!"

"A plan!"

"It couldn't be, he's in the forest, he's hunting today," she tried to reassure herself, "Still, I heard a noise. Wasn't that a noise? You must have heard that!"

Anthony stood and grabbed her shoulders, and turned her to face him. "Kiss me," he said gently.

Gwen smiled shyly. "Oh, sir," she whispered. She could hardly believe her luck. Here was a kind, brave man, who was willing to help her escape Agravaine.

"Ah, miss," he smiled back.

But Gwen turned away again agitatedly. "If he should marry me Monday, what shall I do? I'll die of grief!"

"We fly tonight -" Anthony told her, but again she wasn't listening, wrapped up in panic.

"It's Friday, virtually Sunday, what can we do with so little time?" She whipped around again. "Behind the curtain, quick!" she hissed, and pushed him towards the back of the room, looking anxiously over her shoulder. "I think I heard a click!"

"Tonight -" Anthony tried, but he let her push him towards the curtain.

"It was a gate, it's the gate," she was saying desperately, but stopped in realisation. "We don't have a gate…Still, there was a – there! I heard another click! You must have heard that -"

"It's not a gate," Anthony cut her off softly, "There's no gate. If you'd only listen, miss, and…" He trailed off, staring into her terrified eyes, and felt an overwhelming need to protect her. "Kiss me," he said again.

Gwen stared at him, the message of what he was saying slowly beginning to sink in. "Tonight?" she said cautiously.

Anthony nodded.

"You mean it?"

"The plan is made, so kiss me," smiled Anthony.

"Oh sir," she laughed breathlessly, but her expression turned melancholy. "I'm so afraid…"

"Don't be scared," Anthony whispered, "Tonight, I'll steal you, Guinevere."

Gwen smiled as she realised that Arthur would want this. He wouldn't want her to be trapped, alone and miserable. "Sir," she said hesitantly, "I think I loved you, as soon as I saw you. It didn't matter that I didn't even know your name…"

"It's me you'll marry on Monday, that's what you'll do!"

Gwen laughed delightedly at the prospect of freedom. "And gladly so!"

"St Dunstan's, at noon!"

"I knew I'd be with you one day, even not knowing who you were," she beamed, and then frowned again as she remembered her earlier thoughts. "I feared you'd never come," she told him sadly, "That you'd been called away, or killed, or caught an illness, or were in jail, or trampled by a horse, or gone to sea again, or arrested by the -"

Anthony shushed her soothingly. "I'm here, Gwen. I won't leave you."

Gwen grinned again. "Kiss me," she said. "Quickly!"

"You're sure?" asked Anthony hesitantly. She laughed and nodded.

Anthony beamed, leant forward, and kissed her lovingly.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Back in the forest, Agravaine was still struggling to understand Gwen's feelings towards him. "Surely the respect that she owes me as her king and guardian should be sufficient to kindle a more tender emotion," he told Bamford.

There was pause, and then Bamford thought of something. "Excuse me, my lord; may I request permission to speak freely?"

Agravaine nodded graciously.

"My lord," he said carefully, "Perhaps if you were to win her over? Show your devotion to her in a fight, maybe?"

"You mean a duel?"

"Exactly, my lord. You could challenge the most skilled fighter in the land to a duel, and hold it in her honour. Such bravery and valour is enough to win any woman's heart. When you are standing, triumphant, over your opponent's body, she will see how much you love her."

It would never work, Bamford knew that, but Agravaine was sure to think it was going to, and he may receive a reward for the idea. Besides, he loved duels. There was always a banquet involved.

They entered the citadel and rode towards the castle.

"It's a good idea, Bamford," Agravaine mused, "But I have never been a good swordsman. What if I lose?"

Bamford paused, and then the solution came to him in a flash. "Fret not, my lord," he announced, "I know a place. A swordsman of great skill. You could have some lessons with him, learn some fancy techniques so you look the part, and then pay him to fight you and lose! You'll dazzle Guinevere until…" He paused dramatically.

"Until?"

"She bows to your every will."

"That may well be so," smiled Agravaine. They reached the courtyard and dismounted their horses, and servants came over to take their horses and their prizes from hunting.

"And where is this miraculous swordsman?"

"In Sowers Street, sir."

They entered the castle and walked towards Gwen's room, but Agravaine paused, his hand resting on the doorknob.

"Perhaps you may be right, Bamford." He walked away from the door. "Take me to him!"

Bamford beamed. "His name is Todd," he told Agravaine, "Albon Todd."

Inside the room, Gwen and Anthony sat together, discussing their plans, completely unaware of the danger they had narrowly avoided.

"We'd best not wait until Monday," Anthony was saying, "We'll marry on Sunday!"

Gwen nodded, her smile lighting up her beautiful face.

"Saturday would also do," she giggled.

"Or else tonight!" agreed Anthony.

Gwen turned again to the door. "I think I heard a noise," she whispered, but with less urgency than before.

"Don't be afraid, Gwen -"

"I mean another noise!"

"Like what?"

Gwen turned back to him, and her face relaxed. "Oh, never mind," she smiled, "Just a noise, it was just another noise. Something in the street. I'm being silly."

Anthony smiled at her fondly. "You mustn't mind. Soon we'll leave here. We'll go to Lutetia, in Gallia, on Monday!"

They kissed again, and talked quickly and excitedly about their plans.

"What shall I wear? I daren't pack!"

"We'll go by horseback…"

"I don't need to pack! With you beside me, I won't care what I don't have…"

"Then sail to Gallia…"

A sudden thought occurred to Gwen. "I'll take my purse, though – I have to take my purse. It never leaves my side."

Anthony frowned, confused. "Why take your purse? I'll buy you a new one."

Gwen hesitated. Arthur had bought her the purse, many years ago. It wasn't valuable, but Agravaine had taken everything that Arthur had given her, and she'd only managed to hide the purse. It was the only thing she had that reminded her of him, but she wasn't sure how the sailor would react to that.

"Someone bought me it, a long time ago," she said finally, "You mustn't think that I'm a fool. It's very precious to me."

Anthony smiled. "I'd never think you a fool, Gwen. But you can leave it all behind, start again!"

Gwen didn't speak for a moment, and Anthony sighed. "I have a place we can go tonight, to hide," he said gently, and watched her face slowly light up with her smile again.

Gwen decided to forget about the purse, for now. She would concentrate on their plans for tonight. "I loved you even as I saw you," she told the sailor again.

"And I you!"

"It didn't matter that I…" Gwen trailed off as she realised something, and laughed out loud. "…still don't know your name!"

"Anthony!" he laughed.

"Anthony!" Gwen cried with delight, and danced around the room in happiness. "I'll marry Anthony Sunday! That's what I'll do, no matter what!"

She ran back to Anthony and kissed him. "I knew you'd come for me, come to rescue me! I knew it!"

Anthony hugged her to him. "Marry me, Gwen," he breathed, "Favour me with your hand. Promise that you'll marry me on Sunday."

The two of them kissed again, and lay in one another's embrace, unable to speak with happiness.


	10. Chapter 10

Thank you so much for all the reviews and favourites guys, they really make my day :D This chapter is pretty long but stuff goes down in it so there's a reason ;)

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Chapter 10

In Mrs. Lovett's pie shop, Toby was munching his way through his fourth pie. Mrs. Lovett eyed him nervously. He was going to eat her out of house and home if she wasn't careful. Plus he'd get ill, eating so many awful pies. Not that the taste seemed to be putting him off, the rate he was going.

"Maybe you should run along, dear."

"Oh no, ma'am," he replied nervously, "I daren't budge till he calls for me."

Mrs. Lovett frowned. Toby was obviously scared of his master, and she hated to see children mistreated. But the boy had to go sometime.

"I'll pop up and see what Mr. Todd says," she told him, and climbed the stairs to Arthur's room.

Arthur was standing with his back to the door, calmly cleaning his sword. Mrs. Lovett sat down heavily on the chest. "Me poor knees is not what they was," she mumbled, "How long till the Italian gets back?"

Arthur continued cleaning the sword impassively. "He won't be back."

Mrs. Lovett's head shot up, instantly suspicious. "Now Mr. T, you didn't!"

Arthur turned and nodded to the chest, and Mrs. Lovett leapt up. She stared at it for a moment, gingerly lifted the lid, and then slammed it back down, spinning to face Arthur.

"You're crazy!" she cried. "Killing a man what done you no harm! And what about the boy downstairs?"

"He recognised me from the old days," replied Arthur, barely blinking an eye. "He tried to blackmail me. Half my earnings forever."

Mrs. Lovett breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh well, that's a different matter!" she said matter-of-factly. "What a relief, dear! For a moment I thought you'd lost your marbles!" She smiled wanly at him, and then turned to peer into the chest again.

"Ooh!" she gasped. "All that blood! Enough to make you come over all gooseflesh, ain't it. Poor bugger." She paused, and then reached inside and pulled out Pirelli's purse.

"Three gold pieces! Well, waste not, want not," she said airily to Arthur, and put the purse in her pocket. Then she shut the lid again and sat on it, quite composed.

"Now, dear, we've got to think. First there's the lad."

Arthur went back to cleaning his sword. "Send him up here."

"Him, too?" gasped Mrs. Lovett, "Now surely one's enough for today. Shouldn't indulge yourself, you know. And he's already half unconscious with gin."

Heavy footsteps were heard coming up the stairs, and Arthur sprang to life, running to the window and looking out.

"Providence is kind!" he breathed.

"Who is it?"

Arthur turned, a manic grin on his face.

"Agravaine!"

"Him?!" Mrs. Lovett gasped, "Him? The king? It can't be! It -"

Arthur cut her off swiftly. "Leave me."

"What are you going to do?"

"Leave me, I said!" he shouted, and she ran out the door and down the stairs, curtseying to Agravaine on the way.

"Excuse me, your majesty," Arthur heard her say, and then his uncle was in the room. Arthur held his breath, his back to the other man. This was it. When he turned, Agravaine would either pull out his sword and run him through, or not notice that his nephew stood before him. He turned around and faced his enemy.

"Mr. Todd?"

Arthur stared at him, hardly able to breathe as he bowed low. Agravaine had not recognised him! Part of him was offended; had he been forgotten so quickly? Had he been so insignificant? But the rest of him was excited. This was him, the man whom he had trusted, and who then had ruined his life. The man he hated more than anyone else in the world. This was it. Soon, the false king would be dead, and Arthur would have his vengeance. He didn't want his throne back, nothing like that. He wanted no more to do with the city that had promised loyalty, and then spat him out like bad meat. All he wanted was justice.

"At your service, sire," he replied, fighting to keep the excited smile off his face, "It is an honour to receive your patronage."

Agravaine looked around lazily as he pulled off his leather gloves. "These premises are hardly prepossessing," he droned, "and yet Bamford tells me you are the most accomplished of all the swordsmen in the city."

Arthur allowed himself a controlled smile. "That is most gracious of him, sire. And please excuse the modesty of my establishment. It's only a few days ago that I set up quarters here and some necessities are yet to come." He gestured to the chair. "Sit, if you please sire."

Agravaine sat, and Arthur sat opposite him on the chest, leaning forward in anticipation.

"And what may I do for you, sire?"

Agravaine smiled enigmatically and leaned back, staring out of the window.

"You see before you, Todd, a man infatuate with love – her ardent and eager slave."

Arthur frowned slightly. Who could Agravaine be in love with? "Oh?" he replied casually.

"I plan to woo her," continued Agravaine, "By competing in a duel. A swordfight. When she sees me win, she will realise her love for me. I am sure of it."

"An admirable plan, sire."

"There is a small problem," Agravaine said hesitantly, "I'm afraid I do not…excel in swordfighting. And that is why I am here. I am offering you employment. You will spread your reputation as the best swordfighter in Camelot, whilst secretly devising a carefully constructed fake fight with me."

Arthur watched his uncle silently as he began to realise what he was being asked.

"In a month, I will challenge you to a duel. You will accept. We will fight, and it will look to the townspeople and to my love that I have beaten you, forcing you to declare me the best swordfighter in Camelot. Do we have a deal?"

Arthur almost laughed bitterly, but managed to keep a straight face. He could barely believe Agravaine's arrogance and pride. The idea that his people had chosen this sneaky coward over him to save their own skins made his blood boil.

Agravaine took his silence for reluctance. "You will be paid handsomely, of course," he added, trying not to look anxious.

This was his chance. He could kill Agravaine, and soon. He smiled. "Of course, sire. Whatever you wish."

Agravaine beamed, and drew his sword. "Splendid! We will begin right away!"

"But wait!" Arthur put on an exaggerated frown and took Agravaine's sword from him, examining it carefully. "I am afraid, sire, that your sword needs tending to immediately."

"It does?" Agravaine was looking anxious again.

"Yes," Arthur lied, "It must be re shaped, and sharpened, and then cleaned. This sword is not fit for a king!"

Agravaine frowned and hummed a little. "The boy whose duty it is to look after my sword will be disciplined!"

Arthur felt a twinge of guilt. The sword, of course, needed none of those things, and he could picture a boy who looked a lot like his best friend being put in the stocks. But then he remembered that if he had his way, Agravaine would not be returning to the castle, and smiled.

"I can do all of these things for you, sire. Please, sit while you wait." He gestured to the chair and Agravaine sat. "Who, may I ask, is your intended?"

Agravaine smiled and leant back. "My ward."

Arthur's heart stopped. Hadn't Mrs. Lovett said…he had adopted Gwen as his ward? He couldn't mean…

"Guinevere. As pretty as a rosebud."

Arthur nearly choked. Agravaine wanted to marry his wife! A red mist filled his vision, but he held himself back. He would kill Agravaine, today, but not yet. He had to bide his time.

Arthur went to the corner of the room and fiddled around with Agravaine's sword casually, but his thoughts were racing. Was Agravaine forcing her to marry him? He had to be. He refused to believe she loved him. And what about Anthony? Did Gwen love Anthony? He knew the answers to none of his questions, but it all kept coming back to one thing. He had to kill his uncle. Today.

Arthur whistled nonchalantly, distracting himself from the anger and despair in his mind.

"You're in a merry mood today, Mr. Todd," Agravaine commented.

Arthur gritted his teeth and forced a smiled over his shoulder. "It is your happiness, sire, catching from one man to the next like fire."

Agravaine laughed. "It's true, Mr. Todd. Love can still inspire the heart to pound. What more can man require than love?"

"I know something, sire."

"What?"

"Women."

Agravaine laughed again and leant back, closing his eyes dreamily. "Ah, yes. Women."

"Pretty women," growled Arthur under his breath. The thought of Agravaine lusting after Gwen made him want to be sick.

He messed around with the sword for a while longer, and then glanced over his shoulder again. Agravaine was completely relaxed, eyes closed. Nearly asleep.

Arthur's excitement rose and he quietly picked up Excalibur. _Now then, my friend_, he thought, _now to your purpose._

He advanced on the sleeping Agravaine, raising his sword.

"Patience," he hissed to himself, a manic grin fixed on his face, "Enjoy it. Revenge can't be taken in haste -"

Agravaine's eyes snapped open. "Are you finished?" he snapped quickly, apparently embarrassed at having fallen asleep. He narrowed his eyes. "What are you doing?"

Arthur had let the sword fall to his side as soon as Agravaine's eyes had opened. "I was just…comparing the balance of your sword and mine," he ground out, his frustration rising.

Agravaine relaxed. "If we wed, you'll be commended," he said.

Arthur bowed. "My lord."

He turned back to Agravaine's sword.

"Pretty women," his uncle said behind him, continuing their earlier conversation, "They're fascinating."

Arthur summoned a small noise of agreement, but managed to drown out whatever else he was saying. Instead, he thought of Gwen. Back when they were happy, when everything was good. He saw her in his mind, the way she used to be.

Gwen, sipping her wine at banquets, and turning to give him a smile. Gwen, blowing out candles in their room before they went to bed. Gwen, combing out her long black hair in the mornings. Wandering around the forest. Writing letters. Picking flowers. Sitting on the windowsill. Watching the sun rise from their balcony.

A memory came to his mind of Merlin and Gwen, dancing together and messing around, falling over each other, making him laugh. Merlin ended up lying on the floor, and Gwaine had come running in and tripped over him. Then Gwaine hit Merlin for tripping him, and Merlin hit Gwaine, and they had rolled around on the floor fighting, and he and Gwen had stood together and laughed until tears streamed down their faces.

Then Arthur came back to reality with a jolt. He touched his face. He hadn't realised he'd been crying.

Agravaine was still talking. "Pretty women are a wonder. Something in them cheers the air. Even when they leave you and vanish, they still are there." He laughed jovially. "How they make a man sing! They're proof of heaven. They stay with you forever."

Forever. It resonated within Arthur. Gwen, and Merlin, and Gwaine, and Leon, and everyone who had died. They would all stay with him forever. He grabbed Excalibur, and swung round, sword raised in his hand.

The door burst open.

"She says she'll marry me on Sunday, everything's set, we leave tonight!"

Anthony screeched to a halt as he saw Agravaine.

"You!" snarled Agravaine, jumping out of the chair.

"Your Majesty!"

"There is indeed a higher power to warn me in time!"

Anthony turned to run, but Agravaine grabbed him by the arm. "Guinevere? Elope with _you_?" He barked an angry laugh. "I'll lock her up in some obscure place where neither you nor any other vile, corrupting man will ever lay eyes on her again!"

Anthony shook himself free. "But, sire, I beg of you -"

Agravaine turned to Arthur, who was standing frozen in place, sword raised.

"And as for you, _Todd,_" he spat, "It is all too clear what company you keep. Service them well and hold their custom – for you will have none of mine!"

He strode out of the door and down the stairs. Excalibur dropped from Arthur's hand a clattered to the floor, echoing in the silence that now filled the room.

"Mr. Todd," Anthony started, his tone pleading, but Arthur cut him off.

"Out," he breathed, his voice dangerously quiet.

"Sir, please -"

"Out! Out, I said!" Arthur roared. Anthony bolted out the door and clattered down the stairs. Arthur stood motionless, in shock.

The door burst open again and Mrs. Lovett rushed in. "All this running and shouting!" she cried, "What is it now?"

"I had him…" Arthur whispered.

"The sailor burst in, and then I saw them both running down the street, and I said to myself, 'The fat's in the fire for sure –'"

"I had him!" Arthur screamed. "His throat was bare in front of me!"

"There, there, Mr. Todd, don't fret -" Mrs. Lovett tried, alarmed, but nothing could reach Arthur where he was now.

"No! I had him! He was right there and now he'll never come again!"

"Easy, now, hush love. I keep telling you -"

"When?!"

"There's no rush -"

"Wait! _Why_ did I _wait_?" Arthur yelled violently, "_You _told me to wait! Now he'll never come again!"

Mrs. Lovett stood back and watched in horror as Arthur's sanity finally crumbled.

"There's a hole in the world like a great black pit and it's filled with vermin – but not for long." He turned to Mrs. Lovett, his eyes burning with a ferocious madness. "They all deserve to die!" he spat, "I'll tell you why, Mrs. Lovett."

He took a menacing step forward. "Because in all of the human race, there are two kinds of men. There are the ones staying in their proper place in the world, and the ones with their foot in the other ones face! Look at me, Mrs. Lovett, look at you!"

Mrs. Lovett pressed herself against the wall as Arthur lashed out blindly with the sword, and she realised that he probably wasn't seeing her any more.

"We all deserve to die!" he bellowed, "The lives of the wicked should be made short and for the rest of us, death would be a relief!"

He collapsed to his knees suddenly, his yelling changing to a desperate cry. Mrs. Lovett swore it was the saddest sound she had ever heard. "And I'll never see Guinevere, I'll never hold my wife to me -"

His head snapped up, and the rage was back. "All right, I'm finished!" he shouted at the ceiling. "You sir!" He stood and brandished his sword at the empty chair.

"How about some swordplay?" He slashed Excalibur through the air with a manic laugh, his eyes following whatever nightmare only he could see.

"Come and visit your good friend Mr. Todd! You too, sir! Welcome to the grave! I will have vengeance! I will find salvation! You, sir? No one's in the chair, come on, come on! I'm waiting! Anybody! Don't be shy!"

He abruptly stopped his random lurching around, and his eyes, though still unfocused, gained intensity. "Not one man," he hissed, "Nor ten men, nor a hundred can assuage me – I will have you!"

Suddenly he was back in the room again, and his gaze fixed on Mrs. Lovett. She opened her mouth to attempt to pacify him, and then changed her mind. He was too far gone.

"And I _will_ get him, even as he gloats over his victory, and in the meantime I'll practice on less honourable throats -"

He crumpled to the ground again, keening like an animal. "And Merlin lies in ashes," he cried, "And I'll never see him again. But the work waits!" He pulled himself to his feet and raised Excalibur high in the air, exalted, making a promise to the heavens. "I'm alive at last! And I'm full of joy!"

Arthur collapsed in the chair, panting. Mrs. Lovett took a hesitant step forward, and very gently pulled the sword from his grip. "That's all…very…well," she started carefully, "But what are we going to do about _him_?" She pointed to the chest, where Pirelli's body lay. Arthur stayed motionless. Mrs. Lovett peered at him.

"Listen! Do you hear me? Get control of yourself!" She slapped his cheek gently, and after a long pause he looked at her, still in a half-dream.

Mrs. Lovett nodded, satisfied. "What are we going to do about him?" she repeated. "And there's the lad downstairs, sound asleep in the parlour!" She thought for a moment. "He's simple as a lamb," she decided, "Later I can fob him off with a story, easy. But him! What are we going to do with him?"

Arthur finally spoke, with great effort and very little interest. "Later on, when it's dark, we'll take him to the forest and bury him."

Mrs. Lovett paused. "Well, of course, we _could_ do that…" she started, "And I don't suppose there's any relatives going to come poking around looking for him…"

She paused again as a thought slowly took form in her brain. "You know me.," she said conversationally, "Sometimes ideas just pop into my head, and I just think…" A large grin made its way across her face. "It seems a downright…_shame_…."

"Shame?" Arthur grunted, still staring at the floor.

"It just seems an awful waste…Such a nice, plump frame what's-his-name had…" Her eyes began to glint. "Has! And it can't be traced…"

Arthur said nothing. She tried again.

"Business needs a lift…There are debts to be erased….Think of it as being resourceful, as a gift, if you get my drift?"

Nothing.

"No?" Mrs. Lovett sighed heavily. "It seems an awful _waste_," she said again meaningfully, "I _mean, _with the price of_ meat _what it is, when you get it – if you get it?"

Arthur's head raised slowly, and an amazed smile spread across his face as he looked at Mrs. Lovett in a new light.

"Ah!"

She saw the light of understanding come into his eyes and grinned back. "Good, you got it!" she laughed and talked faster as she warmed to her new idea. "Take for instance, Mrs. Mooney and her pie shop. Her business is never better, using only pussy cats and dry bread! And a cat's only good for six or seven at the most. And I'm sure they can't compare as far as taste -"

Arthur cut her off and leapt to his feet, seizing her and dancing around the room.

"Mrs. Lovett!" he laughed, "What a charming notion! Eminently practical and yet appropriate as always!"

"Well, it does seem a waste!"

"How I've lived without you all these years, I'll never know!"

"It's an idea!" Mrs. Lovett cried breathlessly, "Think about it, there'll be lots of men coming soon to see the greatest swordsman in Camelot, won't there? Think of all of them – pies!"

The two of them cackled as they danced, the little voice inside Arthur telling him that this was wrong, this was all wrong, silenced by his grief and left behind with his old life.

"What's the sound of the world, Mrs. Lovett? Those crunching noises pervading the air?"

"What, Mr. Todd?"

"It's man devouring man!" Arthur yelled in ecstasy, "And who are we to deny it in here?"

They roared with laughter and clattered down the stairs to the pie shop.

"These are desperate times, Mrs. Lovett," cried Arthur, "and desperate measures are called for!"

Mrs. Lovett ran suddenly to the oven and grabbed a pie, and slammed it down on the counter. Arthur looked at it.

"What is that?"

"It's…priest!" she cried, with a giggle. "Have a priest!"

Arthur, catching on, laughed loudly.

"Is it good?" he chuckled.

"Sir, it's _too_ good."

"Awful lot of fat. Haven't you got any poet?"

"No," grinned Mrs. Lovett, "You see, the trouble with poet is how do you know it's died? Try the priest!"

They both cackled, and Arthur took a bite of the 'priest'.

"Heavenly!" he announced, "Not as hearty as bishop, but not as bland as curate either."

"And good for business, too – it always leaves you wanting more!"

"What else have you got?"

Mrs. Lovett looked thoughtfully through her pies, and pulled one out.

"Sailor!" she announced, plopping it on the counter. Arthur made a face.

"You're right," she sighed mock-sadly, "Those taste of wherever they've been!"

They laughed again, excited at their shared plan. "We'll save a lot of graves, and do a lot of relatives favours!" crowed Mrs. Lovett.

"I'll repair and make swords as well, so there should be plenty of variety in your pies," chuckled Arthur. His dark years of exile had mostly been spent making weapons for foreign armies, and now he could put his new skills to good use.

Mrs. Lovett nodded enthusiastically as she poured them both ale to celebrate, and handed Arthur another pie.

"What's this one?"

"Advisor - peak of his career!"

Arthur poked at it. "It looks off," he remarked.

"He drank," she snorted.

Arthur sighed, beginning to look pensive again.

"Haven't you any of that Bamford fellow?" he growled, only half joking.

"Next week, so I'm told!" Mrs. Lovett replied pointedly. "Besides, Bamford isn't bad until you smell it and notice how greasy it is – stick to priest!"

Arthur laughed, back in good spirits. "The history of the world, my love," he said, raising his ale in a toast, "is who gets eaten and who gets to eat. But fortunately it's also clear that everybody goes down well with ale!"

Mrs. Lovett guffawed loudly as Arthur slammed his mug back on the counter decisively.

"I'll come again," he roared suddenly, "When you have _king_ on the menu!"

Mrs. Lovett sighed. "True, we don't have king – yet – but would you settle for the next best thing?"

"What's that?"

Mrs. Lovett grinned and handed him a meat clever. "Executioner!" she hissed, "After all, you are what you eat!"

Arthur roared with laughter and grabbed it. "We'll take what we can get, Mrs. Lovett," he told her fiercely.

"Yes, Mr. T!"

"We won't discriminate great from small. We'll serve anyone – and _to_ anyone – at all!"

He brandished the cleaver, and she a rolling pin, as they cackled in glee at their plan. A thought that once would've been in Arthur's head was nowhere in sight – the thought that if Merlin and Gwen could see him now, what he had become, they would be horrified.


	11. Chapter 11

This is a bit of a filler chapter, and not one I'm entirely happy with, but things pick up soon so don't worry Thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Chapter 11

*_Two Weeks Later*_

Mrs Lovett looked around at her bustling pie shop with pride. It was full of customers, devouring her pies and drinking ale like there was no tomorrow. She chuckled to herself as she imagined their reaction if they ever found out that they were merrily munching away on their neighbours. They _loved _them.

Through the window she could see Toby in a waiter's apron with his drum, calling in customers from the streets. After he had finally accepted that Pirelli wasn't coming back for him, he and Mrs Lovett had become thick as thieves. He was like a son to her, and she a mother to him.

She knew Pirelli had treated him badly, and her kindness towards him meant he had become as loyal and loving as a puppy to her. She glanced up at the ceiling, to where she knew Arthur would be pacing restlessly. They were almost like a family, the three of them. If Arthur could ever let go of the past.

She turned her attention back to serving her customers, half listening to Toby calling to the rhythm of his drum outside.

"Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please! Are you nostrils trembling and tingling at that delicious smell? Well, ladies and gentlemen, that smell in the air is nothing compared with its juicy source!"

Mrs Lovett smiled to herself. The boy certainly had a way with words.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you can't imagine the bliss in store for you – just inside of this door! There, you will sample Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pies! Savoury and sweet, they are the treat that pies should be!"

And so on, and so on, until the shop was full. Then, he ran inside and helped Mrs. Lovett with serving the customers.

"Over here, boy, how about some ale?" one man called over the din of the other customers.

"Let me have another, laddie!" shouted another. Toby ran to them and poured out the ale.

"Could we have some service over here boy?"

"What about that pie, boy?"

"How much are you charging?"

"Toby!" This was Mrs. Lovett.

"Coming!" he replied.

"Ale over there!" She gestured to a customer.

"Right mum."

"Quick, dear!"

"God, that's good!" shouted the customers.

Mrs. Lovett bustled around the customers, serving pies, collecting money, taking orders, addressing each of her patrons individually and with equal insincerity.

"Nice to see you, dearie. How have you been keeping? Cor, me bones is weary! Toby! Ale for the gentleman!" She looked over and saw the old beggar man lurking just inside the door. "Toby! Throw the old man out!" Toby shooed the old man away, and Mrs. Lovett went back to her customers.

"What a pleasure, dear! No, we don't cut slices. Toby!" She pointed to a very drunk man who Toby was about to pour ale for. "None for the gentleman! I could up me prices," she continued to her friend, "Business couldn't be better though, touch wood!"

"Psst!" Mrs. Lovett span round. Arthur was on the stairs, leaning into the shop. She sighed, and smiled her apologies to her customer. "Excuse me."

"Psst!" Arthur hissed again.

"Dear!" she called to Toby, "See to the customers!" She ran up the stairs to Arthur. "Yes, what, love? Quickly, though, the trade is busy."

"But it's six o clock!" whined Arthur. Mrs. Lovett stared at him blankly.

"So?"

"It was due to arrive at quarter to!"

She rolled her eyes as she realised what was worrying him. "And it's probably already on its way! It'll be here. Have some ale and stop worrying."

"I've been waiting all day, it should be here!"

The roar of the crowd downstairs filtered through the door, and Mrs. Lovett looked back, agitated at being pulled in two directions.

"Gawd," she muttered to herself. "Will you wait there!" she said to Arthur. "The customers are getting unruly." And with that she was rushing down the stairs again.

"You'll come back when it arrives?" he called after her, but there was no reply. He growled to himself and went back to his room to pace.

Downstairs, Mrs. Lovett began circulating around her shop again, talking amiably to all her customers.

"Hello there, dear. Oops! Beg your pardon, my hands are all smeary. What's my secret? Frankly, dear, forgive my bluntness, it's a family secret. All to do with herbs!" She chuckled to herself. "Oh, yes, things like being careful with your coriander. That's what makes 'em so good!"

"More hot pies!" cried the customers. Mrs. Lovett dashed over to the counter to fill her tray when she heard it again.

"Psst!"

She rolled her eyes. "Dear!" she called to Toby. "See to the customers!"

"Pssst!"

Mrs. Lovett went back to the stairwell, where Arthur was leaning down again.

"What?" she hissed. "Quickly!"

"But it's here!" Arthur whispered back urgently.

"Where?"

"Coming up the street!" Mrs. Lovett looked out the window, and sure enough, a large crate on the back of a cart was approaching.

"I'll just get rid of these," she told Arthur, gesturing to the tray of pies she was still holding, "They're still hot. Then I'll be there."

"It's about to be opened!" he cried. "Don't you care?"

Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes again. She couldn't believe how worked up he was getting about this.

"I'll be there!" she told him, exasperated. "These'll never sell if I let them get cold."

She moved out the way as the crate was carried upstairs.

"But we have to prepare!" Arthur called after her, but she was already back with the customers. He spun on his heel and followed the crate into his room.

"Hello dear," she was saying again, "Incidentally, dear, you know Mrs. Mooney? Her sales have been so slow, poor thing is penniless!" She chuckled in a way that strongly contrasted with her sympathetic words.

She glanced over and caught sight of the old beggar man again. "Toby! Throw out the looney! That'll be 2 silver pieces," she added to the customer who was trying to slink away.

Mrs. Lovett beamed as she collected the reluctant customer's money and gazed around the bustling shop. All she could hear were people talking about her pies. _Her pies _– the worst pies in Camelot, once!

"God that's good -"

"That is delicious -"

"Have you ever tasted -"

"…smelled such -"

"Oh my -"

"What more can you want than these pies?"

She laughed heartily. If only they knew! She checked Toby had the shop under control and went upstairs. She entered Arthur's room as he was opening the crate. Both she and Arthur gasped. Inside was a magnificent red velvet chair, almost a throne, elaborate carvings on the dark chestnut frame.

He had said that the chair was for his customers, but she suspected that he wanted a piece of his royalty back, to feel like a king again, even if only when he was sitting in his chair. And this obsession he'd had with it arriving all day had further proved this to her in her mind. They both knew it was completely unnecessary, and it had cost an arm and a leg. But it was magnificent.

"Isn't that a chair fit for a king?" Arthur breathed reverently. "You tell me where there is another seat that can half compare to this!"

"It's gorgeous!"

Arthur walked slowly around it, running his hands over the smooth arms. "I have a few minor adjustments to make. I'll call you…" he trailed off, too absorbed to remember to finish the sentence.

"You take your time. I'll see to the customers," Mrs. Lovett replied gently, and left the room.

Arthur gazed at the chair. "I have another friend," he murmured to himself.

Downstairs, Toby saw Mrs. Lovett return and ran to her, holding a pie. "These are the best pies in Camelot, ma'am," he cried breathlessly, "Everyone says so!"

She laughed and ruffled his hair. "They're perfect," she agreed.

"There's no pie anywhere that can compete with ours, ma'am! None!"

He took a huge bite and gave her a meaty grin. "So thick and rich," he mumbled happily. Mrs. Lovett smiled proudly at him, ignoring the uneasy voice in her head that said that this was very wrong. Let him enjoy the pie, she told the voice. It doesn't matter what's in it.

An hour later, Arthur threw down his tools. "It's time," he breathed, and clattered downstairs to get Mrs. Lovett.

When they returned, she examined it carefully. "It doesn't look any different," she told him doubtfully.

"That's the point," he snapped, "Now listen. When I pound the floor, it's a signal -"

Mrs. Lovett cut him off. "Yes, you told me, I know."

"I just want to be sure -"

"Will you trust me?" she cried, exasperated. Arthur narrowed his eyes, and after a moment continued.

"When I'm certain you're in place, I'll pound three times." He demonstrated on the window sill. "Three times." He did it again, and Mrs. Lovett nodded impatiently. "And then you."

Distracted, she knocked at the air twice. "_Three _times," he hissed, and she knocked wearily at the wall three times. "If you forget -" he started threateningly, and Mrs. Lovett rolled her eyes and knocked again.

"Exactly!" Arthur cried triumphantly.

They shared a brief grin, and Mrs. Lovett rushed down into the basement. The basement was her main bakehouse – there were two huge ovens and a butcher's-block table on which stood a meat grinder. In the corner, on the wall, was the mouth of a wooden chute, which led down from his room. Arthur had built it in the previous week.

Upstairs, Arthur placed a large stack of books on his chair, and pounded three times on the floor. Mrs. Lovett responded by knocking three times on the chute, and Arthur pulled a lever hidden in the arm of the chair. Quickly and smoothly, a trapdoor opened in the floor and the chair tipped backwards, sending the books flying down the chute, and the chair innocently resumed its normal position.

In the bakehouse, the books came flying out of the chute and plopped onto the floor. Mrs. Lovett grinned with excitement and knocked on the chute again, and Arthur responded. In their separate rooms, they laughed to themselves. It worked!

"More pies!" The cries of the customers filtered down to the bakehouse, and Mrs. Lovett hurried back upstairs. Toby ran to meet her. "We're all out, ma'am!" he told her. She smiled and patted him on the head, before going to flip a sign on the door that read 'Sold Out'.

"Sorry!" she shouted over the groans of her customers. "You'll have to come back tomorrow – hold it!" she said to herself suddenly as she spotted a man hurrying up the stairs to Arthur's rooms. "Well, bless me!" she chuckled. "Fresh supplies!" The cheer from the townspeople rang down the street.

Within an hour, the customers were eating again, the echoes of their delight echoing round the as they ate.

"That is delicious -"

"Have you ever tasted -"

"…smelt such -"

"Oh my goodness -"

"What more -"

"That's perfect -"

"God, that's good!"


	12. Chapter 12

Again a bit of filler chapter, but I love this one and I hope you will too Only two chapters left after this one – enjoy!

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Chapter 12

The sunrise gently brushed the roofs of the houses in Camelot. No one else was awake yet, and Anthony wandered the streets alone, searching for a trace of Gwen. Weeks had passed since Agravaine had hidden her, and God only knew where she was now.

No one had seen her, or if they had, they were too afraid of Agravaine to tell him. If he asked too many questions he was greeted with a suspicious look and a hurried excuse, and they would all but run away from him. He was due to return to duty in a week and he couldn't leave without Gwen.

Many would have given up, but not Anthony. He knew she was somewhere here. He could feel it. Walls couldn't hide her from him. He kept searching.

Across the other side of town, Arthur sat at the top of the stairs at the side of the shop, staring at the sunrise, but not really seeing it. He never saw anything anymore. His thoughts were only of Gwen – he couldn't even think of Merlin. That was too painful. But Gwen was alive, and he could think of her. He was almost permanently in a dream-like state, completely detached from what he was doing.

After a while, a customer came up the steps, face hopeful, clutching a rusty sword to his chest. Arthur ushered him inside and sat him in the chair.

Gwen, beautiful and pale. He never stopped dreaming of her. Did she look the same? Was her face lined with grief and despair? Was she still as kind and benevolent?

He slashed the customer's throat. Would he and Gwen ever meet again? Sometimes he thought not. His sweet Guinevere.

Anthony climbed a ladder, peering into the window of the lower town jail. He would steal her away, once he found her. He would. It was all he could think about.

Arthur had almost come to terms with the idea that he would not see her again. If Anthony took her away, so be it. She would probably be happier leaving the ghosts of her past behind. _Goodbye, Gwen, _he thought. _You're gone, but you'll always be mine. I'm fine now. I'm fine._ He pulled the lever, and the man's body tumbled down the chute.

"Gwen…" Anthony whispered. Nothing else mattered anymore.

Night fell. A huge, black plume of smoke rose from Mrs. Lovett's chimney. Inside the bakehouse, she tossed body parts into the huge oven, humming to herself.

The beggar man stumbled out of the alleyway next to the pie shop, coughing and spitting. He peered up at the chimney and crossed himself. "Smoke!" he cried loudly, in a rage. "Sign of the devil! The city's on fire!" He tried to grab various passers-by, but they moved away, revolted. "Witch!" he shrieked, and spat at the bakehouse. "Smell it, sir! An evil smell! Every night! Smoke that comes from the mouth of hell itself! Mischief! Mischief…" He shuffled away, muttering to himself.

And so the days went on. Anthony searched every house and every stable. Arthur showed another man into his room, and sat him down in the chair, making a show of cleaning the man's sword for him. _Even if I never hear your voice again, my beloved, I still have reason to rejoice. The way ahead is clear._ He did some practice swings with the sword and muttered something about technique, his mind, of course, elsewhere. He thought about how, late at night, when the darkness started to close in around him, when he was blind with what he couldn't forget, and his despair threatened to claim him, it was always morning in his mind. All he had to do was kill Agravaine, and then he would be at peace.

In the dark room she was imprisoned in, Gwen lay curled in the corner. "I'll marry Anthony on Sunday…Anthony…Sunday…" she whispered to herself. It had become a mantra. It gave her hope. She had lost track of time, and had no way of knowing that Sunday was long gone. So she kept whispering.

Arthur cut the man's throat. Gwen would stay the same as she always had been in his mind. His perfect, timeless version of her would be the one he remembered, and that made him happy. His memories of her would suffice.

He looked out the window as he cleaned the blood off his sword. It was dusk, and the first star was out. He remembered how he and Gwen would sit on the roof of the castle and look for shooting stars. He remembered how when he was on a quest, and he was a long way from home, he would look up at the stars and know that Gwen was looking at the same stars, and that brought her closer to him. He walked back to the chair and pulled the lever, sending the body to the bakehouse.

The beggar man returned every night, pointing at the chimney and shrieking. "There, there! Somebody look up there!" he would hiss at passers-by, always to no avail. "Smell that air! Quick miss, run and tell! Warn everyone of the witch! Can't you smell the evil? Tell it to Bamford and the king! Tell them! Tell them! Help! Fiend!" Finally he would give up, curse feebly at the house, and shuffle away. "Alms…alms…"

Another customer entered Arthur's room. Arthur looked at the wife and small child that accompanied him, and decided to spare this one. Some had to be let go to build up his reputation anyway. Arthur gave him a full sword fighting lesson, though his heart was hardly in it.

Though he would think of Gwen until the day he died, he realised, he would miss her less and less as every day went by. It would get easier. If angels would prevail, they would go back to the way they were, but that wasn't to be. He wanted his old life back, not just Gwen. He wanted everything back or nothing. So he would be satisfied with revenge.

He looked out of the window again. It was morning. He hadn't noticed the time passing. "Look, Merlin," he whispered to himself. "Another bright red day." He lay down to sleep. "Goodbye." He wasn't sure who he was talking to now.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Anthony walked dejectedly down the street. He hadn't searched this part of town yet, but he was beginning to lose hope. Suddenly he whipped around. He'd heard something, he was sure of it. He stood as still as he could, every inch of him listening.

"I'll marry Anthony on Sunday..." Gwen! He was sure of it! Her voice was filtering down to him from a tall building at the end of the street, with high barred windows.

Anthony ran to it, but the windows were too small to climb though, and too high on the building to reach. The door was chained shut.

"Gwen!" he shouted, overjoyed. "Guinevere!" There was no reply.

"You there!" he shouted to a man passing by. "What house is this?"

"That? That's Mr. Fogg's Private Asylum for the Mentally Deranged," the man replied, raising his eyebrows a little at Anthony's tone.

"A madhouse!" Anthony cried. Agravaine was a monster!

"I'd keep away from there if I were you," the man said, and hurried away. Gwen's voice floated down again.

"Guinevere!" yelled Anthony. He began beating wildly at the door. "Open! Open the door!"

Bamford swaggered round the corner, and recognising Anthony, rolled his eyes.

"Now, now, friend," he called, mock-amiably, "What's all this hollering and shouting?"

Anthony turned to him, eyes wild. "Please, sir," he pleaded, "A woman, as sane as you or I, has been locked up in here!"

"Is that so? And what is her name?"

"Guinevere."

"Guinevere? That wouldn't by any chance be King Agravaine's ward?"

"Yes!" cried Anthony, "He's the devil himself for doing this!"

Bamford narrowed his eyes. "You watch your tongue, boy," he snapped, "That woman's as mad as a hatter. I brought her here myself. So hop it!"

Anthony snarled, more angry than he had ever been before. "Is there no justice in this city?" he shouted. "Are the guards as vicious and corrupt as the king?" He went back to banging on the door desperately. "Guinevere! _Guinevere_!"

Bamford shrugged to himself. "Guards!" he called. Several men appeared seemingly out of nowhere and jumped on Anthony.

Anthony fought violently, breaking loose before they could subdue him. _I'm coming back, _he promised Gwen silently, and then he ran, Bamford's shouted orders chasing him to the outskirts of the city.


	13. Chapter 13

Okay, I was about to say this is where it gets quite dark, but then I looked at the other chapters and…well :L This chapter actually starts off happy and then gets dark, so yay for the happys :D Enjoy guys, and as always, thank you for all the reviews, they literally make my day!

Disclaimer: Still not mine

Chapter 13

Mrs. Lovett hummed tunelessly as she counted out the day's earnings at her table. Arthur sat opposite her, staring into space.

"Nothing like a nice sit down after a hard day's work is there?" she said conversationally. There was no response. "There! 10 gold coins and 5 silver. Not bad at all!" There was a pause and she waited for a response. "Mr. T, are you listening to me?"

Arthur shook himself. "Of course," he muttered.

Mrs. Lovett raised an eyebrow. "Then what did I say?"

Arthur glared at the table. "There _must_ be a way to get to Agravaine," he growled.

Mrs. Lovett threw her hands up in despair. "For goodness sake, you're always harping on about bloody old Agravaine!" She sighed, and went to stand behind him. "We've got a nice respectable business now, money coming in regular and since we're careful to pick and choose, who's going to catch on?"

She leant down and pecked Arthur on the cheek. "Ooh, Mr. Todd, I'm so happy! You know what I'd like to do, Mr. Todd? If the business stays as good, I mean. Where I'd really like to go."

Arthur didn't reply. "In a year or so," she prodded. Nothing. "Don't you want to know?"

"Of course," replied Arthur dully.

"Do you really want to know?"

Arthur sighed heavily and feigned enthusiasm. "Yes, yes, I do."

Mrs. Lovett beamed, missing the insincerity of Arthur's words, and settled back down in her chair.

"Well, I always had a dream, ever since I was a child, when my rich uncle would come and visit and tell me stories of the towns next to the sea, and how you could swim in it and everything, and I've always wanted to live next to the sea!" Mrs. Lovett smiled at Arthur, waiting for a reaction to this exciting revelation. He simply stared at the table.

"I know you'd love it, Mr. T," she said hopefully, "We could be alone, in our very own house…"

"Anything you say," Arthur replied in a monotone.

"Wouldn't it be wonderful?"

Arthur gave her a pained smile.

"We'll have fresh fish every day, and go walking along the beach, and then I can knit in the evenings…" She trailed off and looked at Arthur coyly. "Unless we got better to do…" Arthur stared at her in horror, which Mrs. Lovett took as a look of encouragement, and she laughed happily.

"Think how snug we'll be, just us two! They say there's lovely weather there. We'll grow old together."

She hugged herself in excitement, and walked around the shop, tidying busily. Arthur shook his head and went back to his musings, once again no longer listening to a word she was saying.

"It'll be so quiet, nice and peaceful," Mrs. Lovett went on, and then paused. She hesitated and glanced at Arthur out of the corner of her eye. "A seaside wedding would be lovely," she said carefully, watching him for a reaction. He stared at the table.

Encouraged, she continued. "We'll have the odd paying guest from travellers, and now and then you could do 'em in – bring along the sword!" She was practically dancing with happiness now. "By the beautiful sea, like I've always wanted! Married nice and proper."

Mrs. Lovett came over to Arthur and leant against him affectionately, delighted that he wasn't rejecting her outright. "Come on, Mr. T, give me a kiss," she giggled, and pecked him on the cheek. "You do love me just a little bit, don't you?"

"Of course," muttered Arthur, with no idea what he was agreeing to.

Mrs. Lovett beamed. "Then how about it? Of course, we'd have to legalise things, but that wouldn't be too painful, would it?"

There was a pause. Then Arthur spoke in a low growl. "I'll make them pay for what they did to Merlin."

Mrs. Lovett groaned. "Now you listen to me!" she scolded. "It's high time you forgot those morbid fancies. Your Merlin's gone, poor thing. You've got me now." She pecked him lightly again. "You know -" she started, but was cut off by a shout from outside.

"Mr. Todd! Mr. Todd!" The door banged open and Anthony burst in. "I've found her!"

Arthur leapt to his feet. "You've found Guinevere?"

"That monster Agravaine has her locked away in a madhouse!"

"Where?" Arthur cried. "Where?"

"Where no one can reach her," Anthony said breathlessly, "at Mr. Fogg's Asylum. Oh, Mr. Todd, she's in there with all those screeching maniacs -"

Arthur cut him off. "A madhouse! A madhouse!" he shouted, swinging round, feverishly excited. "Gwen is as good as rescued!"

Mrs. Lovett spoke for the first time, bewildered. "She is?"

Arthur grinned. "Of course! Where do you suppose the wigmakers go to obtain their human hair?"

"Who knows? The morgue? Wouldn't be surprised."

"The madhouse. They get their hair from the lunatics at the madhouse."

Anthony's eyes lit up. "Then you think…" he breathed, hardly daring to hope.

"Why not? For the right amount, they'll sell you the hair off anyone's head."

Mrs. Lovett huffed angrily. She had been so close to having Arthur to herself – but Anthony had ruined it. She stalked out, all too aware that neither of the men would notice her absence.

"We will write a letter to this Mr. Fogg," Arthur was saying excitedly, "offering the highest price for hair the exact shade of Gwen's -" He broke off, remembering suddenly that he wasn't supposed to have ever seen Gwen before. "Which I trust you know?" he finished carefully.

Anthony smiled. "The darkest brown, almost black."

Arthur smiled back, though his blood boiled at the love in Anthony's eyes. He thought he could move on from Gwen if he had his revenge, but now she was so close, he wasn't so sure.

"Good," he said out loud, and went quickly into the back room. He emerged again with a handful of coins, some paper, and a quill. "Here's the money," he said, handing it to him, and swiftly wrote the letter, handing it over also. "And here -" He gave Anthony a small and sharp dagger and looked him deep in the eye. "Kill if you must. Kill."

Anthony took it and returned his gaze with equal intensity. "I will kill a dozen jailors if need be to set her free."

Arthur nodded once. "Then off with you. But, Anthony, listen to me." He hesitated, and then continued. "When you have rescued her, bring her back here. I shall guard her while you acquire transport for your escape." He had to see her, at least once more.

Anthony nodded. "We'll be with you before the evening's out." He clasped both Arthur's hands in his. "Mr. Todd. Thank you, friend." And then he was gone.

Arthur stood for a moment, and then crossed to the table. He sat and drew the rest of the paper towards him. He paused, and began to write.

_Your Majesty, King Agravaine, _he wrote, and paused for a snort of derision. _I venture to write you this urgent note to warn you that the young sailor has abducted your ward Guinevere from the institution where you –_ he thought for a moment – _so wisely confined her. Hoping to earn your favour I have persuaded the boy to lodge her here tonight, in my house in Sowers Street. If you want her again in your arms, hurry here after night falls. She will be waiting. Your obedient and humble servant, Albon Todd._

He finished with a flourish and sealed the letter with candle wax. Then he rose and left, heading for the castle.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Mrs. Lovett sat in the back room, sewing and scowling at the floor. She had hoped that Arthur would move on from the past, forget about his old family and his old life. And he nearly had. But that dratted sailor had come barging in and as soon as Arthur saw Guinevere again, her chance would be gone. Was there anything she could do to stop it? Maybe -

The door swung open, distracting her from her thoughts, and Toby ran in. "I put the sold-out sign up, ma'am," he told her proudly.

"That's my boy," Mrs. Lovett smiled. Toby always cheered her up. She held up her sewing. "Look, dear, a blanket! And guess who it's for."

"For me?" Toby breathed, eyes wide. Mrs. Lovett chuckled and nodded. "Oh, you're so good to me, ma'am," he cried. "Sometimes, when I think what it was like with Signor Pirelli – it seems like the gods sent you for me."

"It's just my warm heart, dear."

Toby sat by her feet, looking up at her. "You know, ma'am, there's nothing I wouldn't do for you," he said earnestly, "If there was a monster or an ogre or anything bad like that what was after you, I'd rip it apart with me bare fists, I would."

Mrs. Lovett patted him on the head. "What a sweet child it is," she said affectionately, going back to her sewing.

"Or even if it was just a man…"

Mrs. Lovett's head shot up. "A man, dear?" she said uneasily.

"A man what was bad and what might be luring you into his evil deeds, like," Toby whispered conspiringly.

"What is this?" Mrs. Lovett said, even more wary. "What are you talking about?"

Toby frowned. "Nothing's gonna harm you, ma'am," he said eventually, "Not while I'm around."

"Of course not dear, why should it?" She paused. "And what do you mean, a man?"

"Demons come in all shapes and sizes, ma'am. They're everywhere."

Mrs. Lovett smiled, somewhat relieved; he didn't seem to have anyone specific in mind. "So they are, dear."

"I'll send them howling. I got ways!"

"Of course you do."

"No one's gonna hurt you. No one'll dare," Toby continued earnestly. "Other people might desert you, but don't worry. If you whistle, I'll be there."

"I know what Toby deserves…" Mrs. Lovett smiled. "A nice sweetie!"

Toby grabbed her hand as she reached for her purse, refusing to break eye contact in his adoration. "Demons'll charm you for a while, but in time…"He left the sentence unfinished, and the silence spoke for itself. "But nothing'll harm you ma'am. Not while I'm around," he repeated.

"What is this foolishness?" Mrs. Lovett sighed. "What're you talking about?"

"Little things what I've been thinking and wondering about," Toby said carefully. "It's him, you see – Mr. Todd. I know you like him…" Mrs. Lovett opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to silence her, his eyes older than his years. "…but you can't trust men like him, as I've lived and learned."

Mrs. Lovett didn't know what to say. Had he guessed what they were doing?

"Not to worry, though, ma'am. I may not be clever but I'm not stupid. I can do anything you tell me to. And being clever ain't like being loyal, like I am to you. I won't ever hide a thing from you…" He broke off and raised his eyes to the ceiling significantly. "…like some."

"Now Toby dear," Mrs. Lovett interrupted hastily, "Haven't we had enough foolish chatter? Let's just sit nice and quiet for a bit. Here -" She pulled out her purse to get a sweet for Toby, but he jumped to his feet.

"That!" he cried, pointing to the purse, "That's Signor Pirelli's purse!"

Mrs. Lovett shoved the purse back in her apron, realising her slip. "What's that? What was that, dear?" she stammered, stalling for time.

"That proves it! What I've been thinking!" Toby cried, tapping his head in frustration. "That's his purse!"

"Silly boy!" Mrs. Lovett desperately tried to conceal her panic. "It's just a little something Mr. T gave me for my birthday!"

"Mr. Todd gave it to you!" Toby shrieked. "And how did he get it? _How did he get it_?"

"Bought it, dear! At the market." Mrs. Lovett lifted the unfinished blanket onto his shoulders in an attempt to calm him. "Come on now. Nothing's gonna harm you, not while I'm around," she murmured, echoing Toby's earlier words.

"You don't understand!" Toby moaned, shrugging the blanket off. "Two gold coins were in it, two or three! He wouldn't have given up his purse with two gold coins! Not for a minute! Don't you see? _It was in Mr. Todd's room that Signor Pirelli disappeared_!"

Mrs. Lovett laughed weakly. "Boys and their fancies! What will you think of next? Here, dear." She wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders, her mind racing. She was going to have to tell Arthur that Toby suspected him. Otherwise Toby might tell someone else. What would Arthur do when he knew?

"Sit by me like a good boy and look at your lovely blanket." Her voice cracked as she realised Arthur would probably kill him. "How warm it's going to keep you…when the nights draw in and…it's so becoming on you…" She took a deep breath. She shouldn't have allowed herself to get so close to the boy.

Toby was glowering at the floor silently, and Mrs. Lovett knew he was still brooding. "You know, dear," she said brightly, trying to distract him, "it's the strangest thing you coming to chat with me right now, of all moments, because as I was sitting here with my sewing, I was thinking: 'What a good boy Toby is! So hardworking, so obedient.' And I thought…you know how you've always fancied coming into the bakehouse with me to help bake the pies?"

Toby's head shot up, distracted for the first time. "Oh yes, ma'am, yes!"

"Well, how about it?"

"You mean it?" he cried excitedly. "I can help make 'em and bake 'em?"

Mrs. Lovett kissed the top of his head and led him down the stairs into the basement. "No time like the present, is there?"

Toby wrinkled his nose. "Quite a stink, ain't there?"

Mrs. Lovett pointed at a trapdoor in the floor. "That leads down to other, older cellars, and the smell comes up. God knows what's down there – so mouldy and dark." She walked over to the ovens. "Now the bake ovens are here."

She opened the doors, the red glow lighting up the dingy room. "They cook ten dozen at a time. And here's the grinder." She closed the oven doors and led him over to the meat grinder. She turned the handle, showing Toby how it operated. "You see, you pop the meat in and you grind it and the meat comes out here. And you know the secret that makes our pies so good? You put the meat through three times."

Toby nodded fervently, and began turning the handle.

"That's my boy," she smiled, "Smoothly, smoothly. And as soon as a new batch of meat comes in, we'll put you to work."

She began to climb the stairs back to the pieshop. "Where are you going, ma'am?" Toby asked.

Mrs. Lovett smiled sadly. "Back in a moment, dear. You keep practicing." She blew him a kiss and left, shutting the door behind her and locking it. Toby, too engrossed to realise he had been locked in, started happily turning the handle of the grinder. "Smoothly does it," he whispered to himself, "Smoothly, smoothly."

Up in the pieshop, Mrs. Lovett sighed. She would have to tell Arthur now. They weren't going to get a better opportunity than this. "Mr. Todd!" she called. "Mr. Todd!" No answer.

Just as she was going to go up and see what he was doing, the door swung open, and Bamford walked in.

"Mrs. Lovett!" he smiled. Mrs. Lovett froze. Why was he here? She smiled nervously back.

"Bamford. Good evening."

"And to you, ma'am. I hope you have a few moments, as I'm here on official business."

"Official?" Mrs. Lovett repeated apprehensively.

"That's right, ma'am. You see there have been complaints about the stink from your chimney. They say at night it's something foul. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to let me take a look."

"In the bakehouse?" Mrs. Lovett squeaked, trying to hide her extreme anxiety.

"That's right, ma'am."

"But," Mrs. Lovett improvised wildly, "It's locked and…and I don't have the key! It's Mr. Todd upstairs – he's got the key and he's not here right now." She prayed she was right about that.

Bamford frowned. "When will he be back?"

"Couldn't say," Mrs. Lovett lied.

There was an uncomfortable silence, broken suddenly by the sound of Toby singing from the bakehouse.

"What's that?" asked Bamford.

"Oh, just my boy – the lad who helps me with the pies."

"But surely he's in the bakehouse, isn't he?"

"Oh yes, yes, of course…" Mrs. Lovett stammered, now beside herself. "But you see…he's…well, he's simple in the head. Last week he ran off and we found him two days later in the forest half starved, poor thing. So ever since then, we lock him in for his own safety."

"Then we'll have to wait for Mr. Todd, won't we?" They lapsed into silence again, Mrs. Lovett picking at her fingers nervously until another inspiration came to her.

"Oh yes, of course!" she cried, "Mr. Todd's gone to Greenswood! Won't be back until tomorrow, I should think. And he'll be ever so sorry to miss you. He was -"

She was interrupted by the door swinging open, and Arthur entering, stopping short when he saw Bamford.

"Mr. T!" shrieked Mrs. Lovett. "Back already! Look who's here, Mr. T, on some foolish complaint about the bakehouse. He wants the key and I told him you had it. But…" She relaxed and smiled as she thought of a solution. "There's no hurry, is there sir? Why don't you run upstairs with Mr. Todd and he'll fix you some ale, won't you? You'll _look after him_, won't you?" She widened her eyes at Arthur, and he smiled and nodded as he caught on.

"Yes, sir," Arthur said dutifully, "It'd be an _honour_ to talk with you awhile."

Mrs. Lovett hoped only she could hear the sarcasm in Arthur's voice. Bamford seemed to consider the offer, and then smiled. "Why not? You're very kind, Mr. Todd," he smiled, and followed Arthur up the stairs.

As soon as she heard the door shut, Mrs. Lovett collapsed into a chair, whipping her forehead with her apron. That had been far too close for her liking.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Down in the bakehouse, Toby stood by the grinding machine, munching on a pie he'd found next to the oven. He stopped chewing suddenly, feeling something on his tongue. He reached in his mouth and withdrew the offending object to examine it.

"A hair!" he exclaimed, "Black as a rook! That ain't Mrs. Lovett's." He thought for a moment, and then shrugged. "Probably a black cow," he said to himself, and carried on eating.

Seconds later, he felt something else. He reached in his mouth again and pulled out what he realised was a bit of fingernail. "Ugh!" he cried, shuddering. He dropped the pie, starting to feel uneasy. He looked around the room for a moment and spotted an unidentifiable hole in the wall. He was peering at it, trying to work out what it was, when a strange shambling, shuffling sound started echoing from it. Toby stared, eyes wide, and suddenly the bloody body of Bamford came shooting out of the wall towards him.

Toby screamed and dashed to the door. He tried the handle, and then began beating on it desperately. "Mrs. Lovett!" he screamed, "Mrs. Lovett, let me out! Let me out!"

Wild with fear, he tried to break down the door, but it was too solid. He stood whimpering, petrified. Then he saw it – the trapdoor to the old cellars. He ran to it and wrenched it open. He hesitated for a second. He had no idea what was down there. Then he disappeared down into it. Anywhere, he thought, was better than the room where Bamford's empty eyes stared straight at him.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Arthur strode into the pieshop, dusting his hands off. "It's done."

Mrs. Lovett swung round to face him. "Not yet it isn't!" she hissed. "The boy, he's guessed."

"Guessed what?"

"About Pirelli! Since you weren't here, I locked him in the bakehouse. He's been yelling to wake the dead. We've got to take care of it."

"But Agravaine is coming," Arthur replied fiercely. "I've arranged it!"

Mrs. Lovett groaned. "You – worrying about bloody Agravaine at a time like this!"

She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the stairs. "Come on!"

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Mr. Fogg led Anthony through the asylum, the former holding a large pair of scissors.

"Just this way, sir," Mr. Fogg told Anthony, turning to smile in what he probably thought was a charming fashion over his hunched shoulders.

"You do me honour, sir," Anthony replied, glancing around the dingy place uneasily.

"Well, it is in our mutual interest to come to some arrangement in regard to my children's hair."

Anthony paused. "Your – children?"

"We are all one happy family here, sir," Mr. Fogg leered, "and all my patients are my children, to be corrected when they're naughty, and rewarded when they're good. But to our business."

Anthony nodded, and then shuddered as soon as Mr. Fogg turned his back. The thought of Gwen being stuck with a man like this made him feel sick.

They reached a huge cell, inside of which, the ragged inmates were running

and crawling around, screeching and shrieking. Anthony's heart leapt as he caught sight of Gwen, curled in the corner, not moving. He could hear her voice singing faintly above the cacophony.

Mr. Fogg wrenched open the door and grabbed a woman by the hair, holding her up for Anthony's inspection.

"Here is a charming brunette, a little dull in tone perhaps, but you can soon restore its natural gleam." He dropped her, and picked up a man. "Or here! A fine texture for a man, and, as you must know, sir, there is always a discount on the hair of a male."

Anthony shook his head, trying to hold back his horror at the animalistic inmates, and pointed towards Gwen. "That one there has the colour I seek."

Mr. Fogg followed his gaze and sighed. "Poor child," he said, and walked over to the corner. "She needs so much correction. She sings all day and all night and leaves the other patients sleepless."

He tugged Gwen across the floor by her hair, who struggled helplessly. "Come, child," he smirked, "Smile for the gentleman and you shall have a present." He brandished the scissors. "Now, where shall I cut?"

Gwen suddenly stopped struggling. "Anthony!" she cried.

"Guinevere!"

Mr. Fogg looked sharply between the two of them. "What is this?" he snarled. "What is this?"

Anthony pulled out the knife. "Unhand her!"

Mr. Fogg narrowed his eyes and stepped towards him, still clutching Gwen, and holding the scissors out in front of him. Anthony stepped back, but he kept coming.

"Stop, Mr. Fogg, or I'll kill you!" he demanded.

Mr. Fogg sneered. "Kill me, and I will stop."

Anthony's hands were shaking. He'd talked big in front of Mr. Todd, but the truth was he'd never killed anyone before. He took a step forward and stopped. "I can't," he whispered, losing his nerve, and the knife clattered to the floor.

Quick as a flash, Gwen lurched forward, grabbing the knife. She turned and shoved it into Mr. Fogg, making him cry out and stumble back.

Anthony pulled Gwen to her feet, holding her in his arms. "And now," he spat at the crumpled Mr. Fogg, "I leave you to the mercy of your…children."

Mr. Fogg swung round in time to see the inmates descend on him like rats, and his screams followed Anthony and Gwen as they sprinted down the corridor to freedom.


	14. Chapter 14

This is it, the final chapter! There's an epilogue after this but this is the final chapter where stuff actually happens. Thank you so much to everyone who's read, reviewed, followed, and favourited, it's made it all worthwhile. Hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, it's definitely my favourite. As always, enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine

Chapter 14

Anthony and Gwen sneaked down side streets and alleyways, trying to avoid the townspeople. Gwen was chattering nervously – she couldn't seem to stop.

"Will we be married on Sunday? That's what you promised, married on Sunday…" she paused and frowned in confusion. "But that was weeks ago…"

Anthony looked at her, worried. How damaged was she from her time in the darkness of the madhouse? He embraced her tightly. "Kiss me," he whispered.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Mrs. Lovett and Arthur prowled through the bakehouse, Arthur holding up a lantern.

"Toby!" Mrs. Lovett called softly. "Where are you, love?"

"Toby!" repeated Arthur. "Where are you, lad?"

"Nothing's gonna harm you, Toby, not while I'm around…Remember?"

"Toby!" Arthur opened the trapdoor and peered down into the gloom. "Toby!"

"Where are you hiding? Nothing's gonna hurt you, darling."

"Nothing to be afraid of, boy," called Arthur, concealing Excalibur behind his back.

Outside, the beggar man shuffled towards the pie shop. "Bamford!" he cried creakily. "Bamford! No good hiding, I saw you! Are you in there still Bamford? Bamford! She's a wicked one, she'll deceive you with her fancy gowns and her fancy airs and -" he began to shriek suddenly – "Mischief! Mischief! Devil's work!" Then he was quietly calling again. "Bamford, where are you, Bamford…" He shuffled into the pie shop.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

Anthony and Gwen slid into Arthur's room, Gwen disguised in a sailor's uniform.

"Mr. Todd?" called Anthony warily. There was no answer.

"There's no one here," whispered Gwen. "Where is this Mr. Todd?"

"No matter," Anthony smiled, "He'll be back in a minute. I trust him as I trust my right arm. Wait for him here – I'll return with horses and supplies in less than half an hour."

"But they may know I'm gone – what if they trace us here? Anthony, please let me come with you."

Anthony shook his head regretfully. "There is no safety for you on the street."

"But I'm disguised, no one will know -"

"The risk is too great," Anthony told her. Gwen turned away, frowning.

"Ah, miss," he said gently, "Look at me. Soon we'll be gone and sailing the seas, and happily wed in Gallia. And we'll sail the world and see its wonders."

Gwen looked back at him and smiled. "And then come home to Camelot," she added. "Some day."

Anthony smiled and kissed her gently. "I'll be back before those lips have time to lose that smile," he told her, and hurried out.

Alone, Gwen paced the room. Something about it seemed familiar to her. Had she been here before? There was no way of telling – it was too dark to see the house clearly from the outside, and she hadn't been in the town for so long she no longer knew her way around. Everything seemed different. But this room…she couldn't shake the feeling that she knew it.

She brushed her fingers across the chair, thinking about how beautifully made it was. Then she heard a voice echoing up the stairs.

"Bamford! Oh, Bamford! Where are you?"

Gwen looked round wildly. Someone was coming, she had to hide! She spotted the chest and ran to it, climbing inside and shutting the lid just as the door creaked open.

The beggar man shuffled in and looked around. "Bamford, Bamford…" he whispered vacantly. He hobbled around the room, stroking the walls and the chair, and muttering nonsense to himself. Gwen waited, terrified that she was going to be discovered.

Suddenly the door crashed open, and Arthur stood there, Excalibur in his hand.

"You!" he shouted at the now cowering beggar man. "What are you doing here?"

The beggar man clutched his arm desperately. "Evil is here, sir," he shrieked, "The stink of evil, from below, from her! Bamford, Bamford!"

Arthur looked out of the window anxiously. Agravaine would be here any minute. "Out of here!"

The beggar man only shouted louder. "She's the devil's wife! Beware her! She with no pity in her heart!"

"Out I said!"

The beggar man stilled suddenly and peered dimly at Arthur. "Hey, don't I know you mister?" he whispered, the same as when Arthur had first arrived in Camelot all those weeks ago.

"Mr. Todd!" Agravaine's voice came from outside, loud and angry. "Mr. Todd!

"Agravaine!" growled Arthur. "I have no time!" Quickly, he ran the beggar man through with Excalibur and pulled the lever, shoving his body down the chute just before the door swung open to reveal Agravaine.

"Where is she?" he cried.

"Below, your majesty," Arthur said quickly. "In the care of my neighbour, Mrs. Lovett. Thank heavens the sailor did not molest her. Thank heavens too, she has seen the error of her ways."

Agravaine looked at him sharply. "She has?" he said, a gleam in his eye.

"Oh yes," smirked Arthur, "Your lesson was well learned, sire. She speaks only of you, longing for forgiveness."

Agravaine beamed. "And she shall have it! She'll be here soon, you say?"

"I think I hear her now!" Arthur lied.

"Excellent, my friend!"

"Is that her dainty footstep on the stair?"

Agravaine listened hopefully. "I hear nothing!"

"Is that her shadow on the wall?"

"Where?"

"There!"

Agravaine swung round, looking, beginning to get wound up.

"Primping," Arthur continued in a hypnotic voice, "making herself even prettier than usual…"

"Even prettier…" echoed Agravaine dreamily.

"If possible…"

"Ahh, pretty women!" exclaimed Agravaine, shivering with excitement.

Arthur gestured towards the chair. "Sit while you wait, sire, sit."

Agravaine sat, and Arthur stood behind him, picking up Excalibur when he wasn't looking. "Guinevere, Guinevere…" murmured Agravaine.

"What we do for pretty women!" remarked Arthur.

Agravaine laughed joyfully. "How seldom it is, Todd, that one meets a fellow spirit!"

"With fellow tastes," Arthur added, smiling down at him maliciously, "in women, at least."

"What? What's that?"

Arthur moved to stand in front of his uncle, holding Excalibur behind him. His heart was thumping. This was it.

"No doubt the years have changed me," he snarled viciously, "but still...I would've thought the face of your nephew, the face of the king you betrayed, would be a particularly memorable one!"

Agravaine's jaw dropped, his whole face slack with horrified realisation.

"Arthur Pendragon…" he whispered, in a voice Arthur could hardly hear.

Arthur grinned so wide he thought his face would split open, his teeth bared in ecstasy. He leaned close, his face almost touching Agravaine's.

"Hello, Uncle," he hissed, and slashed the treacherous king's throat.

Silence fell in the room. Arthur crouched next to the chair and the body, exhaling deeply. He had done it. The moment he had dreamt about for 20 years had finally happened. Justice had been delivered. So why did he feel so like something was wrong? He shook the feeling off. All he wanted to feel now was the exaltation, the high of killing the man who had ruined his life and killed his best friend.

_Merlin_, he thought, _your death is avenged, my friend._

He pulled the lever on the chair, and watched Agravaine's body tumble away. Then he knelt down, and placed Excalibur on the floor gently, looking at the blood that dripped off it. "Rest now, my friend," he whispered, "Rest now forever. Your job is done. Sleep the untroubled sleep of angels…"

Arthur's head snapped up as he remembered. The boy! He and Mrs. Lovett had still not found him. He needed to be dealt with. He got to his feet, leaving Excalibur on the floor, and ran out.

As soon as he was gone, Gwen climbed out of the chest, heart pumping in fear. The sound had been muffled inside the chest and she hadn't been able to hear what was being said, but she was sure she had just heard this Mr. Todd committing two murders. Whatever Anthony said about him, he was clearly a madman. She had to get out before he returned and realised that she was a loose end.

On the stairs, Arthur cursed as he realised he had left Excalibur in the room, and turned to go back for it.

Gwen jumped as the door burst open, and swung around to face the man she knew was a murderer.

Husband and wife stared at each other, face to face for the first time in 20 years.

"Who are you?" Arthur spat, breaking the silence. "What are you doing here? Speak!"

Madness and bloodlust tainted his vision, and all he saw was a young sailor. Fear tainted Gwen's, and she did not recognise her husband.

"Please," she gasped desperately, "I didn't -"

"When did you come in?" Arthur yelled. "When?"

"Sir, I beg of you," Gwen cried, "Whatever I have seen, no man shall ever know. I swear it. Please, please…"

Arthur picked up Excalibur and took a step towards her, brandishing his sword threateningly. Gwen backed up against the wall, her eyes filling with tears. He raised the sword and Gwen shut her eyes, bracing herself for the final blow.

A long, horrible scream echoed from below, from the bakehouse. Arthur hesitated, and Gwen took the opportunity to sprint out the door. He lunged after her, but she was gone. He started to consider going after her, but another scream changed his mind, and he ran down to the bakehouse.

MERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINMERLINME RLIN

"Die! Die! God in heaven, die!" Mrs. Lovett screeched. A barely alive Agravaine clutched at her skirt, and she stamped his fingers away in horror. His fingers relaxed their grip as he died, and she breathed a sigh of relief…until she noticed the beggar man for the first time.

"You!" she gasped in shock. It couldn't be, it couldn't be…had Arthur killed him? Guilt and horror rose up inside her. "All the demons of Hell have come to torment me…" she moaned. What was she going to do? She looked over her shoulder and spotted the huge fiery oven. "Into the oven with him," she muttered, and began to drag the beggar man towards it.

The door crashed open. "Why did you scream?" demanded Arthur. "Is Agravaine still alive?"

Mrs. Lovett jumped, dropping the beggar man and trying to look nonchalant. "He was clutching, holding onto my skirt," she stammered breathlessly, "but now…now he's finished." She picked up the beggar man again and began to drag him.

"Leave them to me," Arthur said impatiently, dropping the sword, and strode over to shove her towards the oven. "Open the doors."

Mrs. Lovett clutched desperately at the beggar man's wrists. "No!" she shrieked, "Don't touch him!"

"What is the matter with you?" Arthur snarled, and shoved her again as he picked the body up. Mrs. Lovett stumbled away and pulled open the doors to the oven. "It's just some miserable old beggar man -"

Arthur stopped talking abruptly as the light from the flames illuminated the beggar man's face. With the light, and without the twisted madness that had been there in life, the old man's face had changed…

Arthur started to shake. "Oh no…" he whispered, his voice trembling. "Oh _God…_" He lifted a shaking hand to touch the beggar man's face. "'Don't I know you?' he said…he told me…" Arthur looked up at Mrs. Lovett, hate and anger all over his face.

"You knew he lived," he hissed, his eyes filling with tears. "You knew Merlin lived!"

Mrs. Lovett backed away, more afraid than she had ever been in her life. "I was only thinking of you…" she tried, but Arthur wasn't looking at her anymore.

"Merlin…" he whispered again, gently stroking his friend's face. His mind was stuck. He couldn't think. _Merlin Merlin Merlin Merlin…._

"Your Merlin!" Mrs. Lovett was babbling quickly, "A madman picking bones and rotten vegetables off the street! Would you have wanted to know that was how he turned out?"

Arthur looked up slowly, eyes burning with grief. "You _lied_ to me," he snarled.

Mrs. Lovett shook her head desperately. "No, no, not lied at all," she gabbled.

"Merlin…" Arthur's attention was back on his friend, and Mrs. Lovett's excuses fell on dear ears.

"I said he took the poison, he did, I never said that he died! Poor thing, he lived -"

"I've come home," Arthur whispered. _I'm back with you, Merlin, you need to come back so we can be like we were…_

"- but it left him weak in the head, all he did for months was just lie there -"

"Merlin…"

"- should've seen the physician, but Agravaine wouldn't let him near, he ended up on the streets -"

"Oh my God…" Arthur moaned as reality set in. Merlin was never coming back, he could've saved him, been with him, if he'd known…

"Yes, I lied," Mrs. Lovett was shouting now, "Because I love you!"

"Merlin…"

"I wanted you to move on, I'd be twice the wife Gwen was, I love you!"

"Merlin... What have I done?" Arthur cried. _I killed him, I killed Merlin, I killed my best friend, it's all my fault, all my fault, oh God, oh God, oh God_… It went round and round in his head, echoing horribly. He couldn't think of anything else. He knew now. He had been too blind with hate, too obsessed with vengeance, to realise what he was doing….He looked at his hands. They dripped with the blood of the innocent. All those people….Merlin would've hated him. He had become what Merlin had fought, ever since Arthur had known him. Merlin had always done the right thing, what was good, no matter what it was, and look what Arthur had become….

"Could Merlin have cared for you like I did?" Mrs. Lovett's voice broke into Arthur's subconscious, and he realised. Mrs. Lovett. If she had told him the truth, maybe he could've revived Merlin, taken him to a physician, helped him…he was dead for no reason.

He rose from the floor, smiling softly at her. She stepped back in panic.

"Mrs. Lovett," he smiled maliciously, "You're a bloody wonder, didn't I say so? Eminently practical, and yet appropriate, as always! As you've said _repeatedly,_" he snarled, "there's little point in dwelling on the past! So come here, my love!"

"Do you mean it?" Mrs. Lovett whispered, hardly daring to hope. Was he forgiving her? "Everything I did, I swear I thought was only for the best, believe me! Can we still be…married?"

"There's nothing to fear, my love," Arthur smiled at her the way a serpent smiles at a bird. "What's dead isdead!"

He put his arms around her, and waltzed her around the room. "The story of life, my love, is learn to forgiveness and try to forget."

"Leave it all to me, Mr. Todd, I'll get everything sorted out, by the sea, Mr. Todd, like I said, we'll be so happy, there's no one nosy, asking questions…" Mrs. Lovett gabbled, trying to appease him.

Arthur smiled benignly. "And life is for the alive, my dear!" He waltzed her closer to the oven, and his voice rose in his anger. "So let's keep living it, _really_ living it -" With a final roar, he threw her with all his might into the oven and slammed the door shut.

Mrs. Lovett screamed as she burned to death, long and horrible. Arthur stood watching through the glass window, impassive, the flames flickering in his eyes.

When it was over, he sank to his knees, breathing heavily. Then he crawled back to Merlin, and cradled his friend in his arms, finally allowing the tears to fall.

"There once was a king and a sorcerer," he whispered gently to Merlin. "and they were brothers, not in blood, but in bond. The sorcerer was the king's reason and his life. The sorcerer was kind and virtuous, but the king was…foolish. And blind."

He began to sob, rocking backwards and forwards, bent over his dead friend's body.

Behind him, the trapdoor slowly rose up, and Toby climbed out, his eyes mad and staring.

"Pat a cake, pat a cake, bakers man," he sang to himself, "Bake me a cake…no! Bake me a _pie_…" He trailed off as he spotted Arthur.

"Mr. Todd."

He saw the body cradled in Arthur's arms. "It's the old man," he continued, but without surprise. His mind was too addled with fear and madness for surprise. "You've hurt him too, have you? You shouldn't, you know. You shouldn't hurt nobody."

Arthur was completely unaware of anything around him. He was locked in his own private hell, too far in for anyone to reach him ever again. Toby spotted Excalibur lying on the ground nearby, and wandered over to pick it up.

He traced the ancient writing along it, gazing at it wonderingly. Then he walked over to stand behind Arthur again. "Pat him and prick him and mark him with B," he sang quietly, "And put him in the oven for baby and me…" He reached over and slit Arthur's throat. Arthur gave a sigh of relief as he died, and flopped over Merlin's body.

Toby dropped the sword and went to the meat grinder, turning it like Mrs. Lovett had taught him, wondering vaguely when she'd be back.

The door burst open. Gwen and Anthony, both in disguises, and two guards stood in shock at the top of the stairs, staring at the carnage below.

Toby looked up and smiled politely. "Pardon me, gentlemen, but you may not enter here. My mistress doesn't let anyone enter here, for there's work to be done, you see. So much work. Smoothly, smoothly, smoothly…"

And Toby kept turning the empty meat grinder as his audience looked on in horror, humming to himself and smiling. He was doing Mrs. Lovett's work, and he would keep going till she told him to stop.


	15. Epilogue

Epilogue

The tale of Arthur Pendragon was told for many years to come. Grandparents would call to their children to gather around, and they would tell the tale, the flames of their campfires casting shadows on their faces.

"Attend the tale of Arthur Pendragon!" they would call. "His voice was soft and his manner gentle. His skin was pale. All he would have to do was blink and even the rats would run away. He seldom laughed but he often smiled."

"Attend the tale of Arthur Pendragon! He trod a path that few have trod. His mind was dark and vengeful. He heard music that nobody heard. The more he bleeds, the more he lives. He never forgets and he never forgives."

And the parents would usher their children away, chiding the elders for filling their children's head with nonsense. But the story never died.

Attend the tale of Arthur Pendragon. He served a dark and a hungry god. To seek revenge may lead to hell, but everyone does it, and seldom as well as Arthur Pendragon.

-_The end-_


End file.
